I Am Just A Flea
by Gingham and Basil
Summary: It started when Draco decided to do something about Hermione's lack of interest in his harassing. When things went from bad to worse, trying to find out what she thought of him, that he finally became scared...and addicted to this wee thing called love.
1. Chapter One

**Authors Note: **This is the first book is my series. Really, I know it says humor/romance/drama, (and frankly I'm still confused about how you can actually accomplish that), but don't worry, it will all work out. I'm still hazy on how many books I will actually write and submit. I am thinking two, but maybe I will need to tie up some loose ends, when it is all said and done. Anyway, enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry potter, or any of the merchandise, characters, catch phrases, and or ideas affiliated and associated with J. K. Rowling's work. And as much as I would like to own Pigwideon, Luna Lovegood, and Cauldron Cakes, I don't.

**Chapter One: **Where Girls Swoon, Hermione Reads, and Ron Stuffs His Face; The Great Hall

Draco Malfoy, (aka FerretBoy) has always prided himself on being a bully. And not you're run of the mill elementary kind. He is the mobster, the terrorist, the one who walks the halls, while people glance fear-fully and respectively, (or disgustingly, if you are one of the Golden Trio), and who all the girls, when he was older and no longer pointy and scrawny, sigh and moon and pine and waste away their lives over.

Yes, yes, Draco Malfoy thinks he's bad. Oh yes, he is bad. Very, very bad. The brussel-sprout and peanut butter, plus squash soup kind of bad. The author thinks so too. But he is about to get a wake up call. And this shall be fun.

The students sat at their respective tables; slimy Slytherins at the Slytherin table, reasonable Ravenclaws at the Ravenclaw table, golden Gryffindors at the Gryffindor table, and the humored Hufflepuffs at their according table, and so on and so forth, down to the very last first years, and their big-nosed Potions teacher.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat at their table, in their usual seats. Ron stuffed his face, while he and Harry talked of the latest Quiditch games. "As usual," muttered Hermione, and she promptly took out a hidden book from inside her robes, and started to read.

"…then Miktoy dived in and got the snitch…score seventy to three-hundred….Evens didn't even blink!..." droned Ron.

"Bolbly in yet?...heard Smarta was good….and then he caught it?...World Cup tickets yet….swoosh and dive and feint to the left…bloody nose, dripping all over the place!...heard it in the Prophet…" droned Harry with him.

"So do you think I will be good at being Head Girl?' asked Hermione inquisitively, hoping to distract them from the popular sport.

"Yah, yah, Ermony, go ooh oh shat on, vey dind" said Ron, as he shoved a particularly large piece of pork pie in his mouth. Several crumbs fell out.

"You'll be great, Hermione. Just too bad the Head Boy is…" Harry stopped and turned toward the Hall Doors. A loud noise was buzzing around it, and he finally realized that a large number of girls wearing "We Love Draco!" signs imprinted on the fabric were squealing and buzzing and hopping up and down. And lo and behold, the doors swung slowly open, and there in the doorway, basking in his own pale, (_Hermione; sickly_) glow, in immaculate white collared shirt, green satin tie, and pleated and ironed gray pants, stood Draco Malfoy. Several girls swooned. Alright, I understated that. 70 of the girls swooned. The other either collapsed on their knees, and rushed over and took his arm. And sure enough, with a smugger than smugger look, Draco Malfoy strutted over to his reserved seat at the Slytherin table, sat down, and began to eat while Pansy "Pug" Parkinson clung to his arm, and every now and then wiped crumbs away from his face/shirt/space of tablecloth.

"…Malfoy." Finished Harry.

"Yeah, Harry… you certainly timed that right." Then she blinked and turned over to Ron. He was shuddering.

"Err, Ron?" Asked Harry.

"Bloody ghost boy….ferret…ugh…" whispered Ron.

"Apparently Ronald has an allergic reaction to seeing Malfoy. Ahh, well, I must really finish this chapter you see, so boys, if you don't mind, I am going to ignore your Quiditch talk, as well as Mister High and Pale-ish and Pointy over there, and read." And Hermione buried her nose in her book, once again.


	2. Chapter Two

**Important: **I recently deleted the first chapter…why? Well I though maybe I had uploaded it faulty because I couldn't find my penname or my story in Search. Just when I pressed, "Yes, delete" did I see that I had two reviews. If you reviewed me, and had some bit of information you would like me to read, (such as suggestions, or questions for my profile) please review again. I am sorry for the inconvenience.

**Author's Note**: Well, did you enjoy that last chapter? Sorry it was short, you will notice that my chapters don't stay a certain length, and often will be quick. Why? I want to update for you as soon as possible, and with my schedule, I don't really have time to write one long whopper, proof read for half an hour, and send it in. My artistic spurts, I am predicting, with be in short little squirts. Aw, well. I do say, I will have fun writing about Ron.

**Disclaimer**: Don't own any, blah, blah, blah, if I did I would be rich, and wouldn't be writing fan-fiction; I would be basking on a Sicilian beach, writing my own personal novel. Aw well, life ain't fair, now is it? (Yes, I know I said **ain't**; it's for artistic purposes, okay)….hehe, I almost wrote porpoises, which is a very different noun. I would have instead been writing for artsy, modern dolphin-like creatures, instead for you. And yes, purpose is a noun. Look it up.

* * *

**Chapter One: **Where Pros and Cons Battle, Time-turner Crafters Get Bitten, and Magic Eight Balls Come to Mind; The Head Boy and Girl Common Room

Hermione sighed and flopped down on her brand new chair, in her brand new common room, in her brand new dorm. Yes, the head Boy and Girl had their own rooms that they shared. Upside; sweeter deals, more bathroom time, quietness… Downside: sharing it with Malfoy. "Aw well, I can cope. I mean, he will probably be haunting the Slytherin Common Room anyway." Thought Hermione. Hopefully. If she was lucky.

The room _was _nice, though. The carpet was a nice plush burgundy, the chairs ivory and black velvet. There was a large fireplace, and next too her was a couch and four more armchairs.

"Well, this will be a good place to read…" Hermione thought aloud, and instantly she picked up volume 3 of "The History of the Time-turner Crafters; Where?" (She has previously read volumes 1 and 2, "The History of the Time-turner Crafters: What?" and "The History of the Time-turner Crafters: When?"

The fire crackled, displaying brilliant displays of micro fireworks, wild owls softly hooted down in the forest, the late night star twinkled, and the hush of the castle had slowly, but effectively, set upon Hermione, lulling her into a half-sleep half intelligent state. She had just finished Chapter Two; The Curse of the Werewolf and Where it Happened that Bogornissmess a la Vehfoas Got Bit, when all of a sudden she was jerked out of her reverie by the loud slamming of the portrait hole swinging open.

Mr. Mustela putorius furo (Ferret, in Latin. You think that Hermione would call any one named after an animal by some regular English name? Pssh!) walked through the doorway, shouting behind his shoulder "Did you see his face? Pathetic fourth year! Aw well, see ya' Nott, gotta check out my new rooms." And the portal swung behind, slamming again.

Hermione sighed. "Will you stop slamming that bloody thing?"

"Oh, it's the mudblood. Tell me were my rooms are, so I can make sure I put an anti-bookworm and fifthly blood charm on it." Sneered Malfoy.

"ah-ha…" replied Hermione, who was rather occupied at the moment. "Your room is up the stair…kinda to the right…yep…alright, you can find your way…" and she put her nose back in the book.

"I swear, for one who is intelligent, your replies are sure hazy." Lifting his paler than pale nose in the air, Draco Malfoy walked to his room, closed the door, locked it, undressed (close your eyes!), pulled on his rubber ducky footy pajamas…I mean wife beater and boxer shorts, went to sleep, and dreamt about all the cute sixth year girls he would get to hit on this year. I'm sure if Professor Mcgonogal knew what he was dreaming about, she would have pulled his ear, slapped him, and told him to wash his mouth out for good measure. Well, we can't have everything in life.

Anyway, as soon as he had closed his door, Hermione chuckled. Why? The image of his last words brought to mind the picture of a magic eight ball. Which combined with the ecstasy of the first day at school, and fatigue of a long train ride, the paleness of Malfoy, and the crackling of the fire, it makes one silly situation.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Virtual cookie for anyone who reviews! Chocolate or Almond? That is the question! (Famous line from Shakespeare.)

And for those who want some Draco+Hermione romance, so sorry but you might have too wait a while longer. You see I have this whole plot thing in my mind…and well, I can't tell you or it would give it away! Just get ready for some twisters and turners! (And some letdowns. I know, life is harsh. Pass the Kleenex.)


	3. Chapter Three

**Authors Note: **Well? What do you think? Ooohhhhbut I am so tired. In my school, we have trimesters, and at the end of every one, we do a large project called POLs, or Process of Learning. It's basally its one big 'ole project, but it's making me tired, and on top of that all...err, well if you're a girl you can guess why. I will try to update. Really, this has been so far one every day. But then again, it has only been two chapters. Maybe this will go up at the same time as Chapter Two, but I really have no idea.

**Disclaimer**: Nope, still don't own itoh man! Sugar! Even a blind pig snorts up a truffle once in a while, but apparently, my truffle is in the hands of J. K. Rowling.

* * *

_**Back Information**: Draco was on the run with Snape. He had failed to kill Dumbledore, and now he was here with one of the Dark Lords top Death Eaters, and to be frank; Draco feared for his frigging life. Then Snape explained his horrible circumstances; he was really a double agent for Dumbledore, and he had taken the Unbreakable Vow to kill the late Headmaster. Dumbledore knew about it, and agreed it was for the best. That way he could continue serving the Order, because his information was more valuable that Dumbldores life._

_A couple of weeks later, they made their way back to the Order, and through intensive questioning, Snape was deemed truthful, and Draco was sent home to his mother, (his father was in jail.)_

_Meanwhile, Harry was planning to go and destroy the remaining horcruxes, but he got stopped during the summer by a vision of Dumbledore, and a single sentence comprised of "Wait until school." _

_Now, they are at school, and Harry is also struggling to decide when to seek out the horcruxes. And Draco...well, you might have thought the trauma would have matured him, but apparently he regressed back to fifth year, and he acts like a spoiled, pampered, preened, primped, pomped, and ego-centered prince. Ah well, what can you do?

* * *

_

**Chapter Three: **Where Mirrors are Opinionated, Draco is Perplexed and He Finally Visits a Library for Un-educational Reasons: First Day of Classes

The first day of classes dawned sunny, warm, and totally carefree for Draco Malfoy. And it usually does. And not only on first days of classes, either. "As I say; my life is perfect." said Draco as he preened himself in the mirror. As usually with mirrors in the wizarding world, it replied back.

"Yes, but you really need a girl-friend. There you are, all grown up and seventeen, and you don't even have a girl to call your own."

Draco looked horrified for a moment. Then he took on a firm tone. "No, I don't. Don't want one, don't need one. What is the point of having a girlfriend if you have tons of fan girls? You might as well get married and declare your life over!" And Draco went back to making sure his hair had just the right amount of tousle. Such a fussy boy, don't you agree?

Once satisfied that he looked as hot as he could, he decided to join his fellow classmates down in the Great Hall for some breakfast. As usual, Mudblood had obviously gotten up and early, as their Common Room was deserted, except for a pile of books on her chair. "The early bird gets the worm." thought Draco. Then he sniggered. "Maybe I should call her Wormblood. Or Mudworm."

He strutted through the Great Hall doors, and winked at an overly excited fifth year girl. She promptly fainted. Deciding he really didn't want to talk to Pansy yet, (she is really clingyand can talk the ear off a brass monkey.) he took a detour. And it took him by the Gryffindor table.

"Ron! Don't stuff your face like that!" Shouted the shrill voice of Granger.

"Hawee, Hawminy, bah in uhngree." Said Weasely, as he brought a fork filled with hash browns and pancakes to his mouth, dripping with syrup.

"Yeah Weasel, listen to your girlfriend." Draco couldn't resist.

As if on cue Weasely's ear turned a shade of marvelous red, and his face like a rosy pink. "You shut-up! Youyou" and he started to shudder. "Ferretghosttwitch, twitch."

"Oh my gawd, you might want to get that checked out, Weasel King, before you contaminant us. But don't worry Mudblood, you won't catch it. You are already contaminated as it is." snickered Draco.

Draco watched Scarhead jump up. "You take that back, Malfoy."

"Harry, sit down. Just ignore him. Pretend he doesn't exist." said Granger, in a bored tone, as she read the Daily Prophet and concentrated on her cereal.

Reluctantly, Potter sat down again. Draco sniggered, and walked off to his own table. He ate some food, kept clean thanks to Pansy, but something was troubling him. _Why is Granger acting as if I don't exist? Where is the angry yelling? The fistfights? I mean, I am a great bully! You see how I get Weasel riled up! Then why can't Granger be affected like that too?_ And this small, but important question, buzzed around in his mind all day long, until finally he did something that he thought he would never do: he went to the library without the reason that he needed a book for homework. Yes, yes, I know. He was going to read for his own purposes. Scary, intimidating, and even humiliatingif you are the first year he stuck wet toilet paper up the nose off in reprimand for joking about telling his fellow Slytherins.

Draco scanned the shelvesbut he was lost. He needed a potion, a spell, that would allow him tototo do what? Confused and a bit resigned, he sat down in a red chair made of that scratchy wooly material they use in school libraries.

What did he need to do? _Granger didn't think of him as a threat. Or...maybe she did. Maybe she had a secret, which she thought she would give away if she got mad. Yes, that's it. No way could it be that she just thinks of me as a minor threat._ And Draco, satisfied by his ego-centered explanation, set to task on the next problem. _I want to find out what she thinks of me...yes, yes...and then go from there. Play off her weaknesses. Improve my tactic. Yes, yes, YES! I will be the supreme bully...WAHAHAHAHAHA!..._ Draco looked around and made sure no one was there. _I'm glad that was only a mental shout, or that would have defiantly blown my image._

Draco got up and went over to the Potions Section. "K, L, M...m...mind reader..." he said to himself as he scanned the books. "Mind Tricks, no...Mind Over Matter, no...Mindlessness Messes...no, and no...Mindful Messages, no...ahh, here we are, Mind Pictures: Fifty Potions Related to the Mind of Your Victim." Draco picked the book off the shelf and sat down in one of the itchy red chairs and started to read.

_Potion five: Cryptic-Picture Mind Potion: the Potion to find out what your victim thinks of you. This potion will let you look into your victim's head, and for thirty seconds, see a picture of what represents you in their mind. A bull, a giraffe, a piece of lint, a handsome savior, a saint, or a devil, for example. Be Warned: may cause mild to severe to extreme self-esteem issues. _

Perfect. This was exactly what Draco was looking for. Quietly he read the ingredients, making sure this potion was doable. Nodding his head, he closed the volume, making sure none of the dust got on himself, and hid the book in his robes.Silently he stole out of the library, and went to get his books for his later that usual Charms class.

Unbeknownst to him . . . well, there is supposed to be something catchy or eerie or mysterious here, something that would put a twist in the plot, but actually Draco really just walked back to his room, put the book somewhere safe, and grabbed his Charms textbook, parchment, and ink-sufficient quill unhindered and unwatched. Sorry.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Ciao bella! Virtual muffin for anyone who reviews! 


	4. Chapter Four

**Author's Note: **First of all, Kudos, virtual cookies, and virtual muffins for all my reviewers:

* * *

To "bookwormofdanet"….Thank you for your encouragement and praise. Really, I'm going to get a big head from all of you. And then I won't be able to fit through the door of my house, and not be able to update. Here's your muffin! (Blueberry or chocolate?)

To "Lovelylady90"….I'm glad you think so, and you wanted an update, so here I go! )

To "Phoenix flame01"….well, making people laugh is what I aim for, and phew! Finally some one who has a schedule like mine. And you can't keep the readers waiting for updates, or they get hungry, seek you out, and eat you.

To "Marmalade Fever"….Again, thank you for your praise. Yes, I know they're short chapters, but I like to update as often as possible, and sometimes my creative thoughts come in short little spurts…kind of like a having only one Starburst every day, and never knowing when that itsty bitsy tiny little burst of flavor and fruit will hit you…except this is dealing with a creative thought process, and writers block.

* * *

Back to my notes…umm, where was I? Oh yeah….POL day is tomorrow. Our school is small, so everyone's name is jumbled up, and we get randomly selected and put in a teachers class, and we spend the whole day there and present our project. Like I said, our school is small, so I know every teacher personally, so it's not an issue of not knowing the teacher…its an issue of my sweaty palms, dry throat, nervous little fits were I must, absolutely must shake and jiggle my foot up and down, and feeling the eyes of everyone on you…but the upside is the guy I like will be in my class…or is that a bad thing? I can't tell right know…I am just going over my whole speech in my head and planning what I am going to where. Not that I get picky about my clothes. Just the dress code for POL day is no jeans (how the friggin heck in a baboons bottom can I accomplish that? I live on jeans!), no sweat pants, and nice shoes. It's only 3:45 in the afternoon, the day before I actually present, but I am already nervous!

Okay, I better write this and post it, and start rehearsing my speech and all that bloody banana stuff.

**Disclaimer:** yeah, yeah, I don't own it.

* * *

**Chapter Four: **Where Hairs Put Draco in a Gnarly Situation, Hermione Comes Up with a New Swear, and We Thank Our Mothers Even Though it isn't Mothers Day.

"Ingredient one; strand of hair from your victim." read Draco, as he sat on his bed. He had skipped dinner for this, and that shows you how dedicated, or obsessed, he is getting. Such a problem. The author might have to intervene with therapy, don't you think?

"Easy enough." he said, and hopped down from his bed. He slipped into the bathroom they shared, and looked around. He was sure he a seen a hairbrush here some where. And there it was, all red and shiny, with a stray curly brown hair twisting around one of the needles. Carefully he picked it up. And then he heard it. The soft closing of the portrait door…the muffled footsteps of one oh so clever Head Girl.

Draco was frozen in place. What was he going to do? He just…just…just….and then he took a breath, just one breath, and she was there, standing in the doorway. He held the brush in one hand, and clasped the hair in another.

"What in Holy Hermit Aphids **are** you doing, Malfoy?" she asked perplexed.

_ I have to be very careful the way I answer this…_ "Well, Mudblood…I had noticed that **your** hairbrush was just laying around our bathroom, with it's stray hair and all, and messing up the décor of the bathroom which **we** share, I might add." he drawled. Perfect. Such a clever cover-up. Really, he is so good at cover-ups that he could be a make-up manufacturer.

"Oh, sorry…" she shrugged, and stepped forward. Draco flinched, thinking she might hit him. But all she did was yank the hair brush out of his hand, and walk out.

"What was that!" he hissed furiously to himself. "Flinching! You don't flinch. Draco Malfoy does not flinch!" But to the task at hand. Smiling evilly, he clutched the hair in his hand, and slinked back into his room. _And for the next ingredient…

* * *

Hermione shook her head as she put the finishing touches on her Transfiguration Essay. (Twenty inches, single spaced, one inch margins, on the importance of the proper pronunciation when pronouncing "object-into-five star threat level beast" spell, and the importance of the proper protection circle.) Malfoy was sure acting weird. First he missed dinner, which had denied him the occasion of being fawned over by his fan girls, and then…like a deer caught in the headlights…he had stood their holding her brush._

Of course she fully believed his story. After all, a boy who spends twenty galleons for mousse, fifteen galleons on a special made brush for his fine hair, thirty two galleons for special shampoo and conditioner, and thirty minutes in front of the mirror every morning, would not be partial to getting all uptight and hoity-toity over a stray hair and misplaced brush.

But she wouldn't need to worry. Over the years, she had never given him much thought. He bugged her, she ignored him. She was surprised that he even still tried to annoy her, even if it was obvious that it didn't work. Or maybe he had great expectations. Or tried really hard. She had to give him a star though, he did know how to make a girl think more about where she should place her brush.

And that, my friends, is something you shouldn't take for granted. Having someone there to nag and complain and tell you not to leave things out and around, you don't get that many times in life. And when you do, it's called a Mom.

Oops, sorry Mom, (or Mum, or Mami)

* * *

**Author's Note: **Virtual star to anyone who reviews! Arrivederci amici! 


	5. Chapter Five

**Author's Note: **Hello all! Let's see….oh yeah:

Virtual pies for all who review!

Please read my profile! I don't know why but it seems like the thing to do.

And I want to write a good one shot, but I have run out of creative one-shot ideas. Do any of you have ideas for a Harry Potter one-shot that you do not need and or like and would like to kind of discard into my creative juice bank? Would really appreciate it.

And thanks to my reviewers: "Lovelylady90"…. " NotebookLover"….. "Phoenix flame01"….. "Misty-Eyed Pixie"….. and "Gwinna"

I know I said some of the names before, but I just read the new reviews, and thank them from there. So if you (an individual) review, say 90 times, and they are for different chapters, and are about different topics, then if you can pull that off, I will be thanking you 90 times. But please don't. My fingers hurt already.

I am really excited about this story, and challenged. I have some MAJOR, like chew your head off, spit it out again, and dunk it in marmalade salsa kind of plot twists. I am hoping to keep the humor, Draco's ego, and yet show a soft side of him. Make it more human like…as if it could happen in your school, if you knew magic, befriended Harry, and had an enchanted mirror.

**Disclaimer:** still poorer than a chicken…so yeah, I don't own it.

* * *

**Chapter Five: **Where Draco Encounters an Obstacle, A Lime-green Water-proof Baggy is the Most Sought after Item on the Head Boys List, and Hermione Gets Really Experimental With Synonyms

Draco tilted his head back as he lay on his four poster bed. What was he doing, pray tell? The poor boy was thinking, because he was lovesick…oops, sorry, wrong scene. Let me start again…The poor boy was thinking, because he had just come across an obstacle. The obstacle, unfortunately, revolved around the second ingredient. The ingredient? The slime from an orange bull-frog; presumably the ones that reside down by the lake.

And what was the obstacle, you ask? The problem was a) how to get the slime off, b) and how to make sure no one saw him. "Because, off course" Draco said as his blonde hair settled gently over his eyes, "That would ruin my image completely. And we don't want that, now do we?"

So there he sat, the whole afternoon, (for it was a Sunday), and contemplated how exactly to do this. Deprived boy, if only he had the kind of brains like Hermione, for if he did then he would have figured it out very, very quickly. But, alas, he doesn't. So he sat, until he finally got a bright idea. "Why don't I just swipe if off the frog with my hands, and put it into a water-proof baggy? Yes, yes, that will work."

So, Draco set off into the hallways, in search of that…that…what was his name? Edward? Eger? Edgar? Edgar Smosworthy? Well whatever his name was, Draco knew for certain that the small Second Year owned one brand new lime-green water-proof baggy. All he had to do was find the wretched kid. What house was he in? Draco was thinking Hufflepuff, (after all, anyone with a name like that, and a material item like that HAD to be in Hufflepuff.)

And so Draco set off for the Charms Corridor, knowing that around that time the sorry and unfortunate (for only wicked teachers would schedule a class on Sunday) Second Year Hufflepuffs had Charms class with their Second Year Gryffindor counterparts. When he arrived there, the sounds of confused, befuddled, and concentrating second years emitted from the classroom, and it was obvious that they were still in session. So Draco leaned against the wall, letting his hair fall again neatly and gently against his upper eyelids and lashes, giving him the mysterious and edgy look that he wanted to present to the lowly Second Years. Damn, he is vain. I don really know how he does it. It is quite a lot for one person to pull off. But then again, Draco isn't just some teenager. He is a Malfoy, and as everyone knows, Malfoys are better then everyone else, because they say so. Just like because I say that I own Harry Potter, I therefore do.

Thus he stood there, for around ten minutes, waiting for the students to come out of their classroom. He stood silently as the smaller children filed out, casting him wary glances. The Slytherin Prince. Watch out for him. He's Head Boy, and he's better than you.

The last kid out was Edgar. He had apparently forgotten his book. As he hurried to get as far away as possible, Draco grabbed the back of his hood, holding him back. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked silkily.

"T…t…to dinner, Sir Head." Edgar said in his squeaky little voice. Hurriedly he pushed his glasses farther up his nose, letting his dark mud brown hair fall over his eyes. He reminded him of Potter.

"No…you're giving me what I want." he drawled. "And what I want, is that brand new water-proof bag that I know your mother spent ten galleons on for you…owled it just three days ago…am I right?"

The boy just squeaked and nodded his head. He supposed the squeak might have been a "yes", but you never really can tell with these things. Delicate, delicate matters. Draco quirked an eyebrows, and gave him his coldest look. Hurriedly, the boy forked over the baggy. It was lime-green and shiny, and Draco pocketed it.

"Now," he said smoothly, "I suggest you never mention this to anyone again, or I'll…"

"Malfoy?" came an all too familiar voice. "What are you doing with that boy?" There, just standing by the turn in the hallway, was Hermione Granger. Her eyes were stern and reprimanding. "Shame on you! What did you take this time? Money? I suggest you give it back. You are Head Boy after all!"

Draco felt like a small child being scolded, and he did not like it one bit. "Say what you want, Granger…you can't prove it. Unless you want to search me?" he asked, spreading his arms invitingly, a mocking smirk on his face.

Granger wrinkled her nose. "I think I'll pass. And fine, but don't let me see you around this student again, you hear me?" Then she resumed that bored look that was always in place, right where Draco could see it.

"Good choice, Mudblood." sneered Draco. "I probably couldn't stand your filthy touch for more than a couple of seconds."

Hermione rolled her eyes are walked off. Sometimes, he could be a git. But mostly…she found him a bore. Really, he was nothing more than the dust off her back. He was boring really, with his perfectly safe and second-grade-ish attitude. He acted like a bloody eight year old, for Merlin's Sake!

She wondered when he would realize that he was nothing more than an inconspicuous little trouble in the back of her mind. It had been that way ever since the beginning of the year. She just found, that after six years of the same insults, that he was just a tad bit dull. Mind-numbing. Lackluster. Uninteresting. Tedious. Repetitive. Monotonous. Wearisome. Humdrum. Uninspiring. Just plain **unexciting**.

If what Hermione wants is some excitement, she might have to wait a couple more ingredients…

Meanwhile, Draco happily clutched the item in his robe pocket. _Lime-green water-proof baggy. Lime-green water-proof baggy. _After all, what is more than a young boy can ask for, than a lime-green water-proof baggy?

* * *

**Author's Note:** POL's are done! Okay, since this took me more than a day to complete, I have more reviews to add on. Here's to: … "Mandrake Queen"… and "Marmalade Fever"

Virtual pies for my reviewers!

Arrivederci amici!


	6. Chapter Six

**Author's Note:** schools over Monday the 19th of June, 2006! Today is Saturday, so that means I have to wait…two days? Anyway, I never thought that this day would actually come. Is it sort of sad…some of my friends are moving. Okay, let me rephrase that...all of my friends are moving. Alex is going about an hour away; Shanty is moving about thirty minutes away, Myleisha is going to another school…I will be all alone! Anyway, thanks to my reviewers: …. "Macaday me a nut"… "Lovelylady90"… "Marmalade Fever"

**Disclaimer:** no…ohsob

* * *

**Chapter Six: **Where Draco Collects Slime, Hermione Can't Sleep, And The Author Denies That She Has Ever Cheated.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat on the chairs in the Gryffindor Common Room, enjoying the peace and splendor of the fire, whilst ignoring the raucous shouts of their classmates, and their futile attempts to pin the tail on the dragon. Not a real dragon though…that would be too much trouble to get it on the room. But don't doubt these spunky Gryffindors. If they had been able to, Dean, Seamus, and Colin, among others, would have gladly pinned the tail on a gigantic fire breathing son of a git monstrosity.

But dangerous pastimes aside. The Golden Trio was spending quality time together, for seems the first time in ages. The leaves had already fallen from the trees in the forest, except for the evergreens. The grass was a golden yellow, and the night air was finally shill, the star set out clear against the inky black sky.

"I haven't been in this common room in _ages_." sighed the Head Girl contentedly. She rested her head against her scarlet red chairs, basking in the glow of the fire and the warmth emitting from the joy of being here.

"Yeah, Hermione. You really need to come here more often. I mean, Merlin knows you finish your homework five days before it's due. And you only patrol every other week. And so far, there hasn't been any special Head meetings you have had to attend, right? So what's stopping you?" questioned Ron.

"I don't know. Maybe its just one of those things that you want to do, but never seem to find the time." sighed Hermione once again, yet this time with weariness.

"Maybe you should come see us at Quiditch practice?" suggested Harry.

"Bright one, mate!" nearly shouted Ron.

"But…you guys know I find Quiditch dreadfully boring. I would probably fall asleep. And what's the point of me being there if I am bored? You can't bloody well talk to me while you're up in the air." Hermione said eagerly. She really didn't want to be there, after all. She might as well pull her hair out!

Silently the boys agreed, albeit rather grudgingly. It was all for the best, really. Unless they wanted the resident Head Girl to fall flat on her face from lack of sleep, overdoses of coursework, and boredom, they shouldn't make her come. It's bad for you, you know.

Hermione slowly shook her thoughts away as she studied by the lamplight of her desk. As the candle flame made dancing shadows on the wall, the clock struck eleven, and Hermione finally decided, that as reasonably she could, she might as well get some sleep. It wasn't her fault if tomorrow was Monday. But even as she tried to close her eyes, she couldn't get her body to relax. She couldn't her mind to sleep, and she knew exactly what she needed. She needed a bloody walk.

And if she was quick, and smart, and used her Head Girl badge to her advantage, she might be able to make it out of the castle unhindered by filch. Might.

* * *

Draco had finally decided how to get some slime from the orange bull-frogs that resided down by the lake by using his lime-green water-proof baggy without being seen: he would go down late at night. Or, more preferably, 11:30.

He knew he could get away with walking out unhindered. The prefects who were on patrol wouldn't bug him and if he saw Filch he would flash that nifty, shiny little Head Boy badge of his. Perfect.

In fact, it all went really well, even the part including him getting down to the lake. The stars twinkled over head, but he took no notice. All he saw was the ugly little orange reptiles. And satisfied that he would get this one ingredient done quickly, he knelt down, grabbed hold of the nearest frog, and started to swipe the slime into the bag.

It was halfway filled up, and he was about to swipe the slime off another frog, when he heard those haunting footsteps. It was Voldemort.

Just kidding.

It was actually….

* * *

Hermione sighed deeply as she crossed the grounds, making her way toward the lake. She didn't know why, but maybe the lapping of the waters would feed her brain, making it weary and drowsy.

And it wasn't until she was relatively near the lakes edge that she saw the couched figure of a person along the shore, holding something. Curious, she walked forward for a closer look. Still, she clutched her wand tight. You never knew, after all.

Her footsteps made slight indents in the sandy soil, and her breath hung in the air. Her heart was beating fast from anticipation. As she neared them, she saw that it was a boy. The moonlight reflected off his…silver blonde hair? And has she stood near him, she said incredulously, "Malfoy?"

Draco looked up, and almost swore. It was Granger, and obviously, she was in the process of watching him doing something that would ruin his reputation forever. Tsk, tsk. To bad he didn't put a Secrecy Charm on himself. Ahh well, there it is again, the joys of being Malfoy. Good-looking, agile, skilled, cold, distant, elegant, and a bit dim-witted when it came to preparedness.

"What ever are you doing to that _citrus pigmentus taurusti-ranidae_?" she asked, confused.

"What the bloody hell did you say, Granger?" cried Draco. After all, one couldn't expect him to learn Latin. He had better things to do. Or at least he thought it sounded Latin. Maybe it was a bit gibberish too.

"I mean, what are you doing to that orange bull-frog? And why do you have a lime-green water-proof baggy? Isn't it a little…kid-ish?"

"I…I…well…" stumbled Draco. He needed to think of an excuse fast. "Well…I was feeling sorry for these frogs, and decided to give them a bit of a clean. As you know, the slime on their backs slows them down in the water, creates resistance, you know. I've seen many a frog go down in a fight with a fish because of the slime. Yep, I was just showing some compassion. That's what I do best…" he finished lamely. But do give him some credit. He did have an excellent, (though one that would have been more believable on any other person) excuse.

"Malfoy? You? Showing compassion? Please! That's like Ron chewing his food properly. That's like Pansy becoming less of a pug. That's as likely as Snape giving out lollipops in class. Please, Malfoy. People like you do not show compassion. The day you show compassion is the day I marry you." she said dryly.

Draco glared at her. How dare she? How dare she insult him, yet looked so bored in the act? Where was the yelling, the fiery temper, the curses and hexes and swear words? "Well, for your information Mudblood, Weasly will never be able to chew his food because he is too much like a troll. Bad genes, I tell you. And Pansy? She will never change because her outside reflects her inside. Willing, ready, dirty, aggressive, and always soiling and tainting things. And Snape? Of course he will never give out lollipops. He despises candy. It makes his teeth hurt, and gives him a stomachache. And since he resents others being able to eat candy without hurting, he will never offer a piece so as to deny them for a bit longer. But me? I can change, Granger. A Malfoy is capable of mastering all emotions, but will never show the weaker ones in public. But I do have compassion. I am not like my bastard father. I didn't kill Dumbledore, by the way." he said icily, with just a touch of huffiness. Draco did tend to get miffed a lot. It must be a rich snobby thing.

"Fine, Malfoy. But it doesn't mean you should expect me to get chummy with you just because you say you have a bit of compassion."

"Chummy? You're the one who said you would marry me when I showed compassion. And let me tell you, this is compassion right here. Compassion for these poor frogs. But do you see wedding bells? A cake? Rings? Just like a Mudblood, you don't keep your word. Not that I wanted you to, anyway."

"It is true, Malfoy. I wouldn't want to marry you. You are too much of a prick. But I do keep my word, and I will guaranty that I will marry you on the day you show compassion. And the reason I am not dragging you off to the church is because you are not showing compassion, and never will." she said coldly, and then walked away.

Draco was left crouching by the very, very, very wet shores, contemplating what she had said. With a squirming orange bull-frog in his hand. And a lime-green water-proof baggy in the other.

Of course, it seemed as if Hermione had one this match. Not surprising, since she was totally right. But onto a different matter. Draco was smiling something fearful. Because he had the second ingredient, and he was one step closer to his goal. Or one goals out of many. Actually, a set of goals in a larger set of goals spread out in his entire life.

But I digress. It seems as if our main characters are for once in a turn around. Draco was abnormally happy. And Hermione was angry. For once, it was directed at Malfoy. For once apparently a bit of ego bashing can make a person a bit more exciting. But then, it fades again, and you left with an ego-centered, rich, snobby, popular, handsome, totally boring prick.

A prick that will get the surprise of his life soon. Actually, I'll say he will get many surprises. Most of which he wont like. And Hermione? I'm betting she won't like them either. One-hundred dollars that she won't like them.

Then again, being the author, it is possible for me to rig the story as to go the way I want it to go. But that would be cheating, and your cynical, sarcastic, ruthless, merciless, evil, happy, and wicked author would not do that. Never. And forget that I told you that first bit.

* * *

**Author's Note: **There you go. The sixth chapter. I feel so accomplished. No really, I do. But off this point. I do hope that I kept some of the humor in this bit. It is hard to discuss ones emotional variety while making snide comments or making your characters do silly things. But I tried. Give me some credit.

Virtual quiches for all my reviewers! Arrivederci amici!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Author's Note: **Crepes for any reviewers! Alright…schools over…oh man if I wasn't so conscious of the mental health of my readers, I would be swearing loud and mighty right now! (If you don't want to read a sappy, heartstring tugging essay, don't read the rest of this Authors Note and skip to the story!)

To tell the bloody truth, I don't want school to end. I didn't want it to end. I keep thinking, I'll see everybody tomorrow, or I'll see them Monday, because today seems like a Friday, or even I'll see them in September. But the sad truth is; I won't! Most of these kids are now gone from my life. A handful might make it into my high school classes, but the reality is, with three or four high school choices in my city, we all won't be together forever.

What a vicious cycle, school is. First they almost force feed knowledge down your throat day after day. Making you wish for summer, and knowing that you see your teachers more than you see your parents. And then, just when you have gotten comfy and happy in your class and with your peers, (and this is especially heartbreaking and terrible in 8th) they make you graduate, ripping you from the wonderful hold that your nice, sweet, wonderful, spunky teacher has on you, shaking away all the good friends you have made, breaking the promises you made to yourself (I promise I'll tell that bh what I **REALLY** think of her at the end of the month, or I promise I will tell him I like him, or I will…) You think over and over again, with the heavy feeling on your chest, as you sit at the computer, thinking, I need to breathe, I need to breathe outside, see the open, open skies and get lost for once. I need to be like a bird, able to go wherever it pleases, free, carefree, and always soaring high above.

You want to think about the guy you liked, but know you best friend likes, and you can't say you like him, or that you sometimes get a tight feeling in your chest when you look at his picture, because you pushed so hard for her to reveal her secret crush. You can't shake the feeling that your little buddy, the small yet crazy, gusty, and ladies man kid who is in your class, will not be around to chase the "popular" (popularditzy girls whose only assets are on their backside and on their chests.) girls around the room, and that he wont be their to annoy you, or throw a really good punch for one his size, or make you laugh, and grin with his braces and eyes sparkling. You won't walk the three blocks to your school anymore, see its sandy stone structure rise above the rest of the houses, its small green lockers giving you the hardest time, or it's open, big classrooms that make you feel free and smart. You won't see the boy you like in the hallways or in your classes anymore. No mater how attracted to the others guys you are, you know he is the one. Is the one who has never said a harsh word to you, who draws, and is smart, but you know you might not see him again

And you know that you will possibly build up another life in your new high school, and that it will all be torn away in four years.

I'm sorry for dumping this load of melancholy on you, but I needed somewhere to let it all out.

Okay, now that I have got the end-of-school-sadness bit out of the way, lets move on to the story, shall we?

**Disclaimer**: Yes, yes, I don't own it…no need to rub it in. And keep the salt away from my broken heart wound as well.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**: Where Draco is Bewildered At The Antics Of Many Second and First Years, Draco Asks One Too Many Questions, And Hermione Thinks He Needs Lessons On Conversation: The Third Ingredient. 

Draco sighed in content as he surveyed the items on his recently cleaned off desk. There they were; a curly brown hair, and a lime-green water-proof baggy filled with the slime of an orange bull-frog. (That is **really** fun to say. Try it.)

Smiling wickedly at his plan, Draco read off the next ingredient. _Ingredient Number Three: A piece of your victims favorite food, dyed their favorite color, smelling like their favorite smell, and looking like their favorite thing. _Draco sat back. "Gee, this shall be fun."

As I have remarked many times before, Draco Malfoy is a poor boy. Not that he doesn't have loads of money; he does. And not that he doesn't have a lot of love in his life; which he does…err, sort of. And not like he doesn't have a lot of happiness; which he…err, can you classify pleasure at the expense of others happiness? Well anyway, Draco Malfoy is a poor boy because he will have to go through an experience that does have the potential to be humiliating. How fun.

Draco Malfoy slowly patrolled the halls, watching for any sign of Granger. As luck would have it, he didn't have anyway classes with the Head Girl today, and as he was preoccupied in trying to figure out why she hadn't come to lunch, he didn't eat very much. Which does this funny thing to your stomach where it starts to growl like a Ronald Weasly protecting its food Except in this case there is no food to protect.

Draco let out a puff of breath. _This_ certainly was going very well.(Note the sarcasm.) Not only had he run into several rampaging Second Years, (the monthly edition of Dragon Chasers had arrived, and the kids had started to, well, you know…sink into that state of childish imagination where Snape is a dragon, other students are obstacles made to be jumped over, stands of armor are things that NEED to be pushed over, and Ms. Norris is the innkeeper were they must ask for directions to the next dragon), he had also come across many fan girls wondering what he was doing. He had to shoo them away by saying that Snape was giving out free posters of Draco with his signature scrawled across the bottom down in the dungeons.

And then this brilliant boy decided to try the library. It should have come to him sooner, but give him some credit. After an hour of wondering when those First Years in the corner would realize Ms. Norris was never going to talk, and probably wouldn't want to talk to sniffly little brats, you would lose you mind temporarily too.

Draco slowly walked through the doors of the library. Madam Pince raised an eyebrow at him, and in response he raised his back. Frowning, the woman turned her back on him, and began to sort out her index cards. Draco continued past her desk, and made his way to the very end of the library. He almost grinned in happiness, if that where possible of him, at the sight of one very curly russet head poking up from behind stacks of very thick and very dusty books.

Hermione closed the pages of _A Million Ways the Mongrin Dwarves Could Have Won the War: How They Could Have Stayed Alive_, by Boorish Ofrin III. It hadn't been that interesting a book, more like a way of the author showing off his superior strategy skills, but never the less, she had learned a few new facts, and as they stored up in her mind, she reassured herself that this relentless, constant reading was not unhealthy, and that she gets plenty of exercise, and that her skin is pasty only because of her natural complexion. Of course.

Blinking slightly from the strain of reading, she looked up, and peered over her stack of books. Chocolate eyes met steel gray ones, and she let out a yelp of surprise, and toppled backwards off her short chair, which happened to have no backing. She rubbed her head sorely and frowned up at Malfoy.

"Sorry Granger, didn't know you were easily frightened."

"I'm not; you just surprised me, that's all." She said, even more huffily. Still scowling, she picked up her book.

"Careful Granger, your face might get stuck like that." chuckled Malfoy. Imagine. Him, chuckling. It was a miracle.

"I doubt that. If that were true, your face would have looked like a troll with a baboon for a mother years ago." she said, with just a hint of a smile on her lips. Of course, she would no doubt get tired of this banter in while.

They were quiet for a while, and Malfoy cleared his throat before asking, "Err…sooo…what's your favorite food?"

"What?" she asked unsure that she had heard right. Sometimes earwax can build up, and can obscure hearing. And when you have been spending most of your days reading…well...there's is not a lot of time for other things...

"I said, what's you favorite food." said Malfoy sheepishly, trying to banish the "sheepishly" part that crept onto his face. He managed that partially. Minuscule-like. Somewhat.

"Err…well…" she said, caught quite off guard. "It would have to be…jello. Yes, I think it would have to be jello." _He is acting very strange. Stranger than normal. _

"Okay…" he said, while mentally storing it in his head. "Um…so what is your favorite color?"

"Well…I would have to say marigold…why?" Hermione asked, very perplexed at this point.

"No reason…so…favorite smell?" he said, squinting his eyes. He looked almost hopeful.

"Strawberries…and once again, why?" Hermione's brow furrowing bafflement.

"Err…what's your favorite thing?"

"Merlin Malfoy! If this is your way of starting up a conversation, then you are in sore need of help. "

He scowled. "Just answer the question…" muttered Malfoy.

"A book, I may have you know, but really this is…" but before Hermione could say anymore, he was out the door in a flash. _Maybe Seventh Year is getting to his head. Or maybe the fan girls have finally got to him. _Hermione shuddered. "Serves you right you big ego-headed pig." And Hermione once again opened a book, and began reading "Fact from Fiction: Myth or Reality: The Truth Behind the Orange Marauder of the Sixteenth Century."

It's funny how things work out. While Draco is working labouredly to get an evil plan to come together, Hermione just thinks he lost his mind. Which could be true, but that is of course discussed at length in a different read.

No, no, say no more. I know you want to get back to the story.

But you will just have to wait until the next chapter.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I think I'm evil… 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Author's Note:** I love all of my reviewers! "NotebookLover"…. "macaday me a nut"…. "FrEaKsHoW99"…. "Lovelylady90"…. "Marmalade Fever"…. "Phoenix flame01"…. And "DeepThroat1985"

So how has everyone been. Anyone run out of tissues yet?

Okay, so I have been having some people tell me, (reviewers and in my head….scary…) that I haven't had any Draco/Hermione lurrvvv yet. Well, I relented, and let something "boil in the cauldron" so to speak, in this chapter. "Boil in the cauldron"…ha! I crack myself up. Because, you know, "cauldron"…he's making a potion…boil?...cauldron?

Never mind.

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling's rich…I still have to get the tissues out when I want to buy something…I write average trash can fan fiction for a free website…I am two chapters into my own novel…and one chapter into my other novel…no one has contacted me on the royalties yet…my rock band is nonexistent…So yeah! I…don't own it. 'Nuff said.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: **Where Draco Experiments with Color, Tries to Remember Hermione's Favorite in a Category, And Worries about the Aroma of Strawberries; "These are few of my favorite things…" _**A/N:** When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling saaaadddd!...sorry, couldn't resist._

Draco rubbed his hands together as he looked at the bowl of jello on his desk. The hair and slime were carefully placed in a drawer, and now his attention was to the jello. He cleared his throat, and recited the spell, "tagetes pigmentus" And then he blinked and looked forcefully down at the purple glob of sugar. And as if by magic, it turned…wait, it was by magic, never mind…it turned a nice beautiful shade of marigold. "She has a nice taste in colors-whoaa what am I saying?" Draco looked around widely, making sure no one heard. He was still in shock from that slip of his tongue. But that didn't last long.

Soon Draco had to go get a napkin for the blood, because he had just had a nosebleed. Possibly form the reaction of saying _anything_ nice about _her._ But it could also be from the weather, because it was almost Halloween, and as much as he would like to deny it, having a pale, delicate complexion makes your nose sensitive to the cold.

If the rest of the students knew about that, it would clear up a lot of things, like for one thing, why there is a tub of "Madam Prunellas Skin Moisturizers: New for the Nose!" in the Slytherin Quiditch Locker Room. And why Draco suddenly gets a queasy and disgusted look on his face when Crabbe and Goyle open it up and take a lick out of it, sneeze on it, and sit on it right after they had bean burritos. Even you can have some sympathy for the cold-exterior-ed guy. Even though the chance of him showing you some in return are slim to none. Atom to none. Quantum to none. Goyle's brain to none.

So Draco sat and looked at the blob of marigold jello, and tried to remember her favorite smell. "Was it strawberries? I bet it was. Sometimes Granger comes into the Common Room, after a night of studying, and she smells like strawber-whoaaatt! What am I saying? Since when do I even notice the Mudblood, let alone smell her? I must be having a bad day. This potion is making me delirious, that's all."

Draco shook his head, and cleared his throat. Ever notice how when spell-casting, they tend to clear their throats first. Nervous habit I guess. Or a frog's in their throat. Good thing Draco didn't have an orange bull-frog lodged in his throat. For one thing, he wouldn't be able to get it out. For another, slime from this particular frog, when ingested un-tampered, creates a rash. And three, he had already collected slime, and this would have been helpful a while back. Might make him blow his top, right?

"Fragarius-odorius" he recited. The blob of marigold jello began to give off a waft of strawberry perfume. A very strong waft. "Better get this over with soon, so I can put it away. This just might make me pass out." Awww…to bad.

Draco rubbed his temples, and struggled to remember her favorite thing. Duh. How could someone not know that? "A book…" smirked Draco. "How really typical, not to mention pathetic, of the bookworm Mudblood. I really didn't need to ask that question after all." And Draco cleared his throat…again… and said "Tomus-alterus!"

The blob of marigold colored strawberry smelling jello became to take on the shape of a very flabby, very floppy, and very see through book. "It even has pages you can turn…" whispered Draco, amazed at his own ability. Then he attempted to do that page-flippy-thing were you flip the pages down really fast with a finger, so it almost creates on of those flip books. It would have been cool looking, but instead it just splattered his face with marigold goo. Disgusted, he carefully shoved it in a drawer, and cast an airtight bubble around it.

"Can't have people saying my room smells like strawberries. Its not manly enough." Says the boy who sprays honey scented cologne, drinks tea, and exfoliates his face three times a day with his special mixture.

Honey scented? I always thought he smelled sort of…cinnamon-ish…

* * *

**Author's Note:** Cute little bars of lavender smelling soap for all my reviewers. What? I ran out of pastry. Besides, I think of myself as more of a hotel than a bakery. Nothing sweet to buy here. (And that is an example of a possibly R-rated comment.) 

Arrivederci amici!

P.S. Anyone guess how I got the names for the spells? Hint: look up the genus for strawberry, marigold… And then look at the next word and put in it real English. Can anyone figure out the words? Anyone? Free mint for anyone who guesses…

Come on, you know you want it.

Anyone know anymore pastries? Please?I am going to start giving out pencils or something...seriously.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Author's Note: **First off I would like to thank the reviewers from other stories, just because those are one-shots, and since there are no other chapters to include, there is not a spot for me to thank them. So here goes;

**From "I Am Just a Flea" **_reviews for Chapter Eight_...NotebookLover"….. "macaday me a nut"….. "Marmalade Fever"…. And "Gwinna"

Oh, and Gwinna, I like the chapter titles too. Of course, they probably wouldn't work for my autobiography. It would be too sad. Ex/ "Chapter Twenty: In Which She Is Rejected By Fifty Publishing Companies, Loses The Toothpaste Cap Down The Sink, And Her Flight To California Is Delayed By Twelve Hours: First Week Out Of Grad School." Of course none of that has happened yet, (except the second one, which has happened fifty times), but just to be safe…knock on wood There. I feel so much more secure.

On with the thank-yous…

**From " Draco Bloody Malfoy"**….. Two anons…." A Reader" and "rose"…and a member "Krayola Krayon"

**From "I'm Going to Die"**…. "Poosche"

**From "The Lioness Walks Away"**... "weasleytwinsaresexy"…. And "Taintless"

**And last but not least, from "Whoever Said Life Was Fair Was Dumb"**… "macaday me a nut"…. "anon"… "stoopid6"…. "IcklePeevsie"….and "goodwitch08"

Thank you for your support! I know it would be loads easier to just read the stupid story and then move on to something else, but you guys and girls here take the time to review!

**Disclaimer:** At my funeral, next to my jar of ashes I want a jar of ashes from the lawyers who insist we put disclaimers on our stories. Yes, of course a teenager with bad spelling and grammar and who can't put thoughts into coherent sentences, (that would be me) could pass as J.K. Rowling, not to mention not having the slightest idea on the characters back-ground, history, or roots…. Oh well, might as well go ahead and say it.

No, I do not own Harry Potter you large bunch of prat-faced knuckle head lawyers.

**Note: **It seems as though the days in this story have been flying by. So here is a way that this can all work out. (Beware: A little artistic license is used here…;)…)

**Chapter One**: First day of school was on a Friday, and seeing as how they don't get there till night…no classes. Then you get Saturday, and Sunday. Chapter One is on a Sunday, because it's just a regular day.

**Chapter Two**: It's Sunday night, and they are seeing there rooms for the first time because….it was under construction. Trust me.

**Chapter Three**: First day of classes, which would be a Monday.

**Chapter Four**: He hasn't had time to work on the first ingredient, so now it's Sunday. Hey, he's very busy.

**Chapter Five**: He read the second ingredient Monday, but because of the obstacles, and because he is not as bright as Hermione, it is now a Sunday again. Time does fly by rather quickly here. So now it's…September 17

**Chapter Six**: Monday night….11:30, they both go down to the lake, and Draco succeeds in getting some frog-slime. An interesting chore, to be sure.

**Chapter Seven**: Now it's Friday the 22nd. I tell you, the time flies by really quickly. And think of how long it took Hermione, Ron, and Harry to make the poly-juice potion. It took ages. So don't think badly of Malfoy for not making this potion faster.

**Chapter Eight**: Shall it take him till Sunday to get this part right? Yes, I think it will. So now it's Sunday, the 24th. Oh gosh, 37 days till Halloween! And let me tell you, when you only have a month and a couple of days to…err, why don't you just read on?

* * *

**Chapter Nine: **Where Questions Go Unanswered…Unintentionally, Draco Touches On A Sensitive Subject, and Snape Opens Up; A Very Late Morning.

Hermione let her eyelids droop as she nearly fainted on the couch. _No, no, Hermione dear, the recent Head Duties are not running you ragged, you are just imagining it, _she told herself. She massaged her temples. It had been a long day. Professor McGonagall had insisted that she help the Halloween Ball Planning Committee with their planning. As if she didn't have enough to do with schoolwork. Besides, a ball is just frivolous. She probably wouldn't even attend. "By the way," she murmured, "When is Halloween?" She looked around the room. Who could she ask? Then she glanced at Malfoys door. It was slightly ajar, and she could see the faint outline of him coming towards the door.

He opened the door, and came out. "Well, well, if it isn't the mud-blood? What are you doing?"

"Err…Malfoy? Can I ask you a question?" she said wearily.

_Wow, she looks tired. _"Fine, Granger, if you really need to…" he said disdainfully. He fully expected some sort of lecture, or a "Why are you so mean?" instead, he was met with…

"When's Halloween?" she said as her eyes closed.

"Err…I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you right…what was that again?"

"Halloween….when is it?" and with that she dozed off.

Draco looked around. "Blimey, Halloween is almost here. I have to find a stunning costume to complement my looks! And I need to help with the Halloween Ball Planning Committee. Though it's not my fault the old bat drops responsibilities on my head like flies. Really now…" He looked down at Granger. "Halloween is the…?" and he saw she was sleeping. He shook his head. "I beginning to think muggles are not only tainted, but crazy as well. She really should learn to sleep."

Hermione woke up, and looked at the clock. "9:47! I'll be late for class. I'm never late. What will happen, and…and…?" And then it hit her. "Oh yeah," she said, relief filling her up, "It's Sunday, and I don't have classes. But…ooohh…I do have that stupid Halloween Planning Committee thinga-ma-bob in thirteen minutes. I better hurry." She said, her relief turning into disappointment.

Hermione scurried to her room, and changed into as clean set of robes, sensible brown capri pants, and a long-sleeved t-shirt that read "National Wizarding Spelling Bee Champion, 2006."

She was just out her door when she ran into Malfoy. Without bothering with an apology, she said hurriedly "Come one Malfoy, we have to attend the Halloween Ball Planning Committee meeting, and it's in eight minutes? Are you dressed? Eaten? I don't want to be late because of you and…"

"Relax Granger, I'm all set. I woke up at six, unlike you. That reminds me, you need to get more sleep. Your bad habits cast a shadow onto my reputation." He said grumpily as he followed her out of the porthole.

She glowered and muttered under her breath "…reputation, I'll say…the kind of reputation that means you've had every ditzy girl in Hogwarts in your…"

"What was that, Granger?" he said, smirking.

"Nothing, nothing!" she said brightly, flashed him an all too fake smile, and then quickened her step. "Hurry up!" she barked.

"Okay… Merlin, Miss PMS." he said as he trotted up beside her. Being on the Slytherin Quiditch team isn't just for perks, you know. It shows that Malfoy is a good athlete if he can keep up with a hurrying Hermione Granger on a morning when she has had no breakfast, and woke up later than usual.

She sighed in content as they reached the door of the Meeting Room. Right on time. She opened it and walked to her seat, smiling at the few prefects she knew who were on the team.

"Ah, welcome, Miss Granger!" smiled all too warmly Justin Finch-Fletchly, the organizer of the committee.

"Hello, Justin." she smiled politely. He brightened up considerably at her usage of his first name.

"Oh, and hello Malfoy." He said disdainfully.

"Oh, so you're the chair-person of this group? Figures. It's Fletchly, right?"

"Right on." He said coldly. "Anyhow, in today's meeting, we need to pick a theme, a date, and a time." He looked around expectantly. "So, any idea for a theme?"

"How 'bout a Halloween theme?" said Malfoy cheekily.

Justin flapped his hand at him. "But we need good decorations, music, lights…that kind of theme?"

It when on and on so like this for about an hour, until the meeting was nearly done. "Any last words?" asked Justin as he packed up some notes.

Hermione raised her hand. Justin beamed at her and said "What brilliant idea do you have for us today, Hermione?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and make a gagging sound. Hermione wrinkled her nose at him. "I was thinking, that since we want a live band, the Wailing Winsome Witches, to be precise, and we also want some recorded music, I was thinking that we could have a DJ."

"A what?" asked Malfoy, utterly confused.

"A DJ. In the muggle world, at parties, they have person who stands by the recording machine and so on, and picks out good songs, and sometimes does requests. It would give our party, a more youthful feel. Instead of having pre-recorded music running on and on, this will give us the je ne sais quoi , so to speak."

"A delightful idea! Did you here that, everyone?" Justin said, positively glowing in admiration for Hemrione. "Oh, and by the way, positivly exquisite French accent, 'Mione."

The other students who were still in the room nodded, and smiled at Hermione, though not as much as our Mister Chair-Person.

"Yeah, I heard Fletchly. But you know, you really must be careful…" said Malfoy as he inspected a well manicured nail.

"Careful of what?" asked Justin.

"Oh, you know….just that if you place poor Granger here up any higher on that besotted lovey-dovey pedestal of yours, she might fall. And that would be quite a long fall, don't you think Granger? Tch, tch, I have never seen someone so besotted by a Mudblood as him…"

Justin's face turned bright-red, and he glared at Malfoy. "Your just jealous that because even though you practically **live **with her," he said menacingly, "you can't even get her to get with…." but he was cut off by Hermione.

"Woah, woah woah….hold on a minute. Now," she turned her head sharply toward Malfoy, "If you do not hold your tongue, I will be forced to report you. You may be the Head Boy, and your forte may include being a jerk, but that does not give you the right to go inside someone's emotional and safety zone. That just there qualified as emotional bullying, and I will take no more of it." she just about snarled at Malfoy.

"Yeah, Malfoy, you heard…"

Hermione whipped around to face Justin. "And you, Justin. I don't care what someone says to you, but that gives you no right to say things of questionable merit about my relationship with Malfoy. I know I cut you off, and I'm glad I did, because Merlin knows what thing you might have implied. And now listen here, both of you. I'm **not**, and by my word you better bloody not mistake me for one, one of the frivolous, scatter-brained appearance obsessed 'girls' that you find quite generously scattered around Hogwarts. You understand me? If you have a problem, come talk to me. And if you have a problem with someone else, do not attack them by implying about my moral values. Got it? Now, I want both of you to apologize. I'm going back to work on some homework, and if I hear about anything concerning me, that has to do with anything else besides books, school-work, or Head Duties, Merlin hold me back I will not be merciful. Now, good day to both of you." She picked up her bag, and walked out of the room.

They both stood there in stunned silence for a moment, before Justin cleared his throat. "Um…so, Malfoy…I'm sorry for what I said"

Malfoy turned toward him. "Trying to earn Brownie points with Granger?"

Justin noticeably reddened up again, but not as much as if she had been in the room.

Malfoy smirked. "And let me tell you another thing," his eyes darkened from cold silver to thunderstorm gray, "If you think to make me blush, or whatever it is you immature adolescent boys do around girls, it will not be caused by you implying that I want to get with the Mudblood, you understand? Never in my life would I touch something that is as tainted as her." _And as talented and-whaaoohh, where did that come from._ "If you ever suspect that anything is going on between us let it be hatred and a tiny little First War. And you know what else? The day I go out with Granger is the day you get fifty galleons on your bedside table and an apology, courtesy of me. Until then, you might as well beg from Weasel." Malfoy sneered and walked out of the room.

But then he thought of something else to day, and turned back. "And the day **you** manage to become Granger's girlfriend, is the dayI kiss Ronnikin Weasel on the cheek. Oh, surprised that I think you don't have a chance with her? As much as I hate it, I admit she has more intelligence and nobility in her ten fingers than you will have in a lifetime. Plus, you're not much of a looker. But don't think my attitude toward her has changed. I am still better than her...by a long shot." And then he finally left the room.

* * *

Hermione walked back to the common room in a dignified huff. Her day had been totally spoiled, and it wasn't even lunch yet. Speaking of food….her stomach was so hungry. She was about to get in the portal doorway when two things changed her mind. One; the kitchen has food. And two; Malfoy was coming back, and she didn't want to confront him just yet..

Hermione slipped through the portal into the kitchen five minutes later, only to discover….Voldemort!

Actually, no.

Only to discover….Draco, about to confess his love to her!

Ooohh, sorry….no again.

Only to find Professor Snape.

Really, it was Snape.

"Err…Professor…what are you doing?"

"And I thought you were the smart one. What does it look like I'm doing? I'm eating chocolate chip mint ice-cream."

"Really, that's my favorite! Ice-cream that is. I still think jello tops it all." She said as she took a stool by him, much to his disdain.

"Amusing…" he said sarcastically.

Hermione pretended not to notice. "Dobby?" she called. The sock-adorned house elf zoomed to her side.

"What can I's be doing for Miss Hermione?" Dobby said eagerly.

"Umm…is there anymore chocolate chip mint ice-cream?" she said hopefully.

"Why, yes, there is! I'll be getting it right a way, Miss!" and he zoomed away faster than you can say SPEW. Really, it's amazing how fast he goes. I wonder how much caffeine he drinks.

And surprisingly, Snape and Hermione spent the next hour discussing potions. Its amazing how much he opens up when introduced to another person who understands the fine precise detail concentration in regard with the making of a potion. By the end of the hour, he had already confessed his undying love of Professor McGonagall.

And how one "Mind Pictures: Fifty Potions Related to the Mind of Your Victim" potion book had been missing from the library for quite some time now.

* * *

**Author's Note: **How was that? I know, I know, I bit monologue-ish. But if you didn't mind the drama soaked speeches I made them say, then I won't worry about it. And really, it was fun to write.

Chocolate Danishes for all my reviewers! (Courtesy of macaday me a nut.)


	10. Chapter Ten

**Author's Note**: Okay, here is going to be a very short update, but I think that's okay. (Is it? Tell me if is should work harder to make a longer chapter. I probably won't do anything about, but tell me anyway!...hehe, I'm evil….)

And thanks to my reviewers. My brain is a little frazzled right now, so I can't really thank you by name. But I love you all!

**Disclaimer**: No, I don't own it….sob….oh woe is me….how thrilling…

* * *

_**Chapter Ten**: Where Hermione Puts Work In Front of Politeness On her Priority List, Draco Finally Loses It, and He Gets A Taste Of Irony. _

Hermione breathlessly rushed out the door. She had so much to take care of, with that stupid Halloween Planning Committee piling work on her an all. I mean, the meeting was only yesterday, but already they had her filling out charts, composing letters, and organizing lists of costs.

Hermione rubbed her eyes. Yes, she defiantly needed more sleep, that was a given. But right now she needed to get this work done, and find time after to classes to get her homework completed. And to top it all off, it was Tuesday, and by Merlin, it was her busiest day so far.

Hermione ran out the portal door of their common room, and as she did she brushed past Malfoy and Pansy.

"Hey Granger, a little apology is in order!" he yelled after her, while Pansy sicken-ly sweetly lounged on his arm, alternately smirking at Hermione, and shooting looks of eyelash-curling simpers at Malfoy. How disgusting.

She turned around. "Huh? No time, have to get work done, seven charts, four diagrams, eight lists, and five letters to write. I can't really apologize right now." And she started to run off again.

"Work for what? And aren't you supposed to be at lunch?" he called again, making her turn around rather hurriedly, so her curly hair whirled about in the air, and came down rather disheveled onto her head. She absent mindedly patted it down.

"Lunch can wait. And what about yourself?" she stopped mid-sentence, and checked her bag confusedly. "Halloween Planning Committee….and what's Pansy doing with you?" she continued.

"Ha-ha…so you're stuck with all the work? Figures. And to think, I though Finch would have lessened the work load on you, seeing as how he is shamelessly in love with you…" then he smirked.

"Funny, Malfoy. But can't really….have to go…bye!" and she ran off again, mumbling about a particularly difficult chart. Deprived girl. She really needs some rest.

* * *

Malfoy yawned again as he surveyed his recently finished homework. Well, he didn't really finish it. He just copied it off the homework Granger had left on the table. And speaking of Granger… 

Malfoy pulled out the potions book form underneath his bed. He flipped to the page, and started to read, "_Ingredient Four: The liver of a long-toothed pumpkin._" Malfoy leaned his head back. "Sounds simple enough, all I have to do is…wait a second!" he double checked that last sentence. "A pumpkin with teeth? Oh brilliant and I though this day couldn't get any worse."

Yes, Malfoy has had a bad day. He only got to terrorize kids three times, his lunch was only mediocre, and a hair of his handsomely tousled head was out of place. Talk about rotten luck.

But I digress. Malfoy finally laid his head down on the pillow wondering how the bloody hell he would the liver, (if they even had one) out of a long-toothed pumpkin. How spiffing.

* * *

Wednesday the 27th dawned bright and early, and due to the fact that most of the teachers had gotten the flu, (it had been a rainy week), classes were called off. Of course, Hermione Granger found all this really annoying, and complained whenever she could to Harry Potter and Ronald Weasly, and whenever Draco was present, how utterly horrible classes couldn't continue. 

After thethirteenth time in five minutes she had stated that, Draco blew his top. "Okay, Granger, I bloody well GET IT! I'm sorry your classes got canceled, but there's nothing I can do about it! Bloody hell, Mudblood, get a LIFE!" and he stood there panting, and hand running through his hair and his eyes took on a mad, desperate look.

"You're sorry that my classes got canceled?" asked Granger.

Apparently she hadn't heard a word he had said.

"What do I have to do to get you to shut up?" he asked "Got to the library, take you on a relaxing walk, because frankly you're running on 200cc caffeine, get you some extra work...?"

"A walk! That it! Take me on a walk? Maybe we will meet at teacher who can help us get some extra homework." And excited at that prospect, she jumped off the couch, took Draco by the arm, and practically bodily dragged him out the portal hole.

"What have I gotten myself into?" he asked over and over again under his breath as Hermione chattered away as she searched the hallways. **Every. Single. One.**

Finally, tired and bored, (at least on Draco's part) they made there way to the front hall. And lo and behold, there stood Hagrid, that giant oaf.

"Err, hello, Hermione, and you, Malfoy, what you up to? Happy classes got canceled?"

"No, Hagrid , actually we're looking for work. We're terribly bored, you see." said Granger before Draco could answer. Figures. But when he tried to explain that _he_ didn't need any work, he was cut off by Hagrid.

'Really? Then do have the job for you. Come down with me to my hut."

"But its raining." stated Malfoy bluntly. How wonderfully blunt he is.

"I know, the task I need ya to do works better in the rain. Washes it away, and soothes those savage beats."

While Granger dragged him through the front doors, he pondered those last few words. "Err, Professor Hagrid?" he asked suddenly, "What exactly are we doing?"

"I gots some savage little things I need to be cleaned, and some need ta be slain. Need some o' them for Professor Snapes potions, and some for the house elves new pie."

"Okay…" said Draco quietly. And then he wondered the next question that came to his mind. And it will be a surprise to him. And not one he will like. "Err, and what are these so called…savage beasties?"

"Why, glad you asked," said Hagrid jovially without turning around. "Long-toothed pumpkins, the feisty variety.

Oh, the irony of it all.

* * *

**Author's Note: **By the way, I am trying to get up to forty reviews total for this story. So far I have 31. So I need nine reviews for this chapter! But don't bother if its going to be something like "Here" or "Okay" I know its grueling, annoying, and tiresome, but please tell me what you really think of me/the story/the plot. 

Anyway, love and kisses, and a multi-colored gel pen for my reviewers!

(By the way, can anyone think of anything sweet and baked that I could give out for reviewers?) By the way, do you like the new set-up for the title? Do you like it this way, or should i just have it regular?


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Author's Note: **How is everyone? Doing okay?

Alright, niceties aside, lets get down to business….which would be….the eleventh chapter of I Am Just a Flea! BWAWAWAWAWA

That was really embarrassing. Glad no-one heard it.

**Disclaimer: **Blah…blah….blah….blah….no…no…and no, I do not have the copyrights stashed under my mattress. Because that would be too obvious. I'm more of a toaster kind of person.

* * *

_**Chapter Eleven: **Where We Get a Lesson in the Malfoy Code of Life, Draco Contemplates Ending It All, and We Now Have Reason to Suspect That The Author And This Story Have A Fetish For Synonyms: The Rainy Day and The Fourth Ingredient._

Yes, yes, Draco Malfoy was one very wretched, very miffed boy. Why, do you ask? Because at this very moment he was out in the rain with a very happy, very elated, and very busy Granger.

And he was stuck cleaning long-toothed pumpkins.

Which, by the way, may I remind you, bite.

But he can bear it. He's a Malfoy. They are supposed to bear it. and according to the Malfoy Code of Life, Chapter Seventeen, section Four, paragraph 9.8, line 5 and so forth, "If a Malfoy does not chin up and force his upper lip to become said stiff…meaning he does not weep and cry and sniffle…while cleaning and/or slaying long-toothed pumpkins…he is in direct violation of the Malfoy code of conduct, and therefore is subject to all manner of punishment…let it be from a painful torture session, a day shopping with a Parkinson, to a bad hair day, to a rainy afternoon trying to entertain said mud-blood Granger. 'Nuff said."

In any case, Draco was grumbling said rules under his breath as he wiped his hands free of the slime that seems to permeate the skin of one such pumpkin, giving in an unhealthy, unearthly, eerie, oily glow. Kind of like Snape, except orange-r.

Draco sat back on his heels as he looked over at Granger. She was happily cleaning out the guts of one sorry dead pumpkin. She threw the remains behind her, and went to work on another one….and…wait!...what was that!...that pink squishy thing she threw behind her!...it was…a long toothed pumpkin's liver! Oh the glory! Oh the ecstasy! Oh the joy! Oh the…slimy….disgusting…_thing_ he now has to hide in his robe pocket. Oh crud.

He sighed as he tried to silently go behind Granger, and then he stopped and picked up the liver. It was nauseatingly, horribly, sickeningly, unbelievably, repulsively, revoltingly warm, wet, slimy and slippery. And if that isn't a way with words, I don't know what else is.

He made a face as he put it pocket. "Gross….." he shuddered. Oops. Granger turned around.

"What is gross Malfoy?" she said, annoyingly cheerful.

"The…the…the pumpkin!" he nearly shouted.

"I know," she said smugly. "That's why I'm the one cleaning it out. Malfoys are too squeamish.

Oh the awkwardness of it all.

"No, I am not…" and miffed, he walked back up to the castle.

Of all the times he could have been at loss for words, this had to be it. "Oh yes, Draco…'_no, I'm not'_….how witty…how clever…argh, I can think of ten more things you could have said besides that. Buffoon."

But he was instantly quelled by the happy thought of this: "There is only one more ingredient left." And he smiled as he lined them up on his desk. "One hair…check….one slime from an arrange bull-frog….check….one jello book colored marigold and smelling like strawberries…" which, by the way, now had turned his room into a suffocating shrine to that ugly little brat with the red hair and straw-hat, Strawberry Shortcake. Oh the unhappiness of it all, "…and one liver…ugh…of a long-toothed pumpkin. Now what is left?"

Draco scanned the page for the last and fifth ingredient. "Three suckers from a Giant Squid." Draco gulped and looked out the window.

"I wonder how long it would take me to die if I jumped of the sill…."

Not long, m' boy…but in your case….not long enough.

Really, he has it hard. Bad. Horrible. Horrifying. Awful. Nasty. Ghastly. Horrific. Dreadful. Shocking. Staggering. Horrendous. Unspeakable. Oh, this story is just riddled with synonyms, now isn't it?

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm sure you enjoyed that. Really, I am. Even though it was shudderingly short. But now on to the gallant point!

Whoever reviews gets a virtual red and white licorice stick. Now get to it, my pretties.

Arrivederci amici!


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Author's Note: **Alright, let's catch up. So when Malfoy had to put that liver in his pocket, it was Wednesday the 27th. Yes, and sob, classes were canceled. Oh horrible. Amway, here is the Twelfth Chapter…did I miss anything?

Oh yes, only the BIGGEST item on my list……ITALIA! Whooo! World Cup Champs! Give me an I! Give me a T! Give me an A! Give me an L! Give me a Y! What does that spell? Italy! Three cheers for the beautiful game!

Okay, now here is your long awaited, wonderful, random, beautiful, cute, funny, darling chapter. Divertirsi! (Have fun)

**Disclaimer: **I own my dreams, my happiness, and that cute little dust bunny that lives under my desk. Oh, that reminds me. I have to feed it.

But not a furry ceramic crafter.

* * *

_**Chapter Twelve: **Where Draco Struggles A Four Syllable Word, A Change of Plan For The Golden Trio's School Year Is Underway, and We Suddenly Find One Of Our Main Characters Struggling From The Grips Of A Crazed Shopoholic With A Taste For Halloween Costumes: Thursday The 28th………Because Too Much Goes On To Find One Word To Nail It All._

Draco sat on his bed, thinking for what seemed for the millionth time, how the hell he would be able to pull this off. Or more importantly, how he would be able to pull the suckers off that bad boy.

Anyway, not to be discouraged, he figured that this time he would do exactly what he did last time; go down in the middle of the night, but without the Granger part. Yes, yes, without Herm-granger. _Without the bushy head. Yes, yes, without H-Granger. And that's her name. Granger. Not Her-herm—he-her…Granger. Exactly. _

Of course, Draco dear.

* * *

Hermione sighed as she sat down on the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room. And then she sighed again. And after five more minutes of sighing and some noisy exhaling, Hermione finally bellowed "RON WEASLY AND HARRY POTTER! WHERE THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU, YOU TWO BIG PRATS!"

This if course scared two second years who were lounging in the other wise empty room, and they scurried out of the portal faster than you can say "Deranged Bookworm"

But she has reason too. Don't doubt that.

By the way, lovely weather we're having, aren't we? Though I can't say the same for myself. Bit on the rainy side, you know what I mean?

Oh, yes, back to the reason Hermione is bellowing. She was waiting. Waiting for two very late, very sorry, and very soon to be dead boys.

I think you can guess who.

Hermione waited, tapping her hands on her arms as she bobbed her foot up and down. Finally, after much more ranting, the two boys burst into the room. "Sorry we're late Hermione, but we were finishing some last minute plans."

Actually, since they were rather rushed, I came out more like this, "Sorrywelatemionebutwewerefishingomelastminuteplans."

Charming.

'That's okay, guys…" she said sarcastically. "But how many times have I told you not to keep people waiting. You know it's a rule of etiquette to always keep…"

"Hermione, Hermione, we know, we know, but…um…maybe we should explain to you."

She raised her eyebrow at them and motioned for Harry to continue.

"Well, you see…Ron and I are going to go look for horcruxes."

That was unexpected. "Oh really? And I'm not coming? Is it because I'm a girl? You think I'm weak? Or do you think that I do not care about your life anymore? Was the last six years nothing? Liver pâté? Hmm?" Hermione felt an ice cube form in her stomach as she tried to shake the feelings of "I'm-losing-my-best-friend"

"No! No, Hermione, it's not that. I because we need you here!" exclaimed Ron.

"Really." ….Sarcasm….no matter how short-lived it may be, it still bites. Satisfyingly so.

"We need you to research for us. Keep us posted. We need to help us find out more about Voldemort's…Tom Riddle's….past. Hermione, you know the library better than Madam Pince."

"Well," she said smugly, "I do know my library. But do you really think I would be any help?"

"Hermione, would I have offered if I didn't think so?" asked Harry kindly.

Hermione smiled. "I guess not. But when are you leaving?"

"Next Sunday"

"So that gives us this afternoon, Friday, and Saturday, to get you ready to go." said Hermione, already planning lists in her head.

"No, that gives us this afternoon, Friday, and Saturday to hang out with you." said Harry.

A couple sappy moments of smiling and hugging later was followed by a rather random, yet somehow related, comment from Ron, "Butter beer, anyone?"

* * *

Hermione sighed as she and Ginny walked the grounds. Not that she was neglecting her duties of spending time with Harry and Ron before they went, but at the moment they were occupied with one last detail, and since both her and Ginny were free, they decided to go for a walk.

I mean, really, everybody does it.

"So Hermione…" mused Ginny as she took her arm. "What are you going to wear at the Halloween Ball?" Ginny looked at her, "You know, what kind of costume?"

"Um…I don't think I'm going."

"Whhaaat!" You can't not go! I neeeeeeed someone there! I'm mean, Harry and Ron are out, and Luna will get spaced out and start talking about UFOs….Unique Flying Oboes….I neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeddddddddddd………you…..Please?"

"But I don't have the slightest idea what to get. Hey, I know, why don't I be Invisagirl?"

"Invisa-who?"

"Invisagirl. I'm invisible. So you just say, here is my friend Invisagirl…she's invisible. Then I don't have to go. Brilliant, I know."

"No….no…Hermione….but you know what is brilliant?"

"Me?"

"No…try again…"

"Invisagirl?"

"No, me taking you shopping Sunday to go look for a costume. It'll be fun…." She looked at Hermione expectantly. "And I'm not asking."

"Oh brother." _Now I'm in for it. Gosh, now she will make me go, and I will have to suffer standing in a corner with Luna and Neville, talking about flying oboes, while Ginny dances with at least ten guys who have asked her, and she's having fun. And I'll be stuck sipping punch and throwing death glares at the floor, and then Professor McGonagall will probably make me step in for her to chaperone so she can step out with Professor Snape--- eww….and then I will be the one breaking up fights and the snogging and inappropriate dancing…which will make me even more unpopular in the first place! I'm dead._

"Yes, Hermione…it will be fun." And she gave Hermione the I'm-a-physco-shopper-who-**will**-get-you-in-a-costume-wether-you-like-it-or-not look. And Hermione whimpered silently and wished she could run away from her loving, dear, caring, yet crazed and dangerous best friend.

I know, I know. I would run too.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well, well, let me just thank everyone for reviewing. Oh, and you went above and beyond the mark of 40! I am so excited. This is how it should be everyday. (Not-so-subtle-hint)

Thanks to: "Sams Firefly"…. "Mandrake Queen"…. "NoteBookLover"…. "Tedd.E.Bare"…. "macaday me a nut"…… "DaveysMommy"….. "Marmalade Fever"

Review, my minions!….and you will get a white and milk chocolate Danish. Yum!

P.S. Did anyone get that last bit of the disclaimer? If you dont know what I'm talking about...then you didn't read my beautifully sob well written disclaimer that saves me from rampaging lawyers. I you didnt get it...hmmm...maybe try experimetning with synonyms...

And if you got it...we can either share a laugh about my wit...or the fact that it was lame. Either one.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Author's Note: **Okay…I give. I'll confess it all. I have an addiction. A horrible, painful, intense….sweet, sweet, hot addiction. What am I addicted too? Toasted peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches…..and Johnny Depp/Captain Jack Sparrow.

I admit it, and I'm not ashamed. Yesterday I went to Stop & Shop with my mother and brother for…well….groceries. But it was like being in a mad house for me. EVERYTHING had a Pirates of the Caribbean thingy….or a picture of Sir Dashing himself. And really, let me ask you something. Is it too much to ask my mother to buy a box of Rice Krispies… when there are at least three large pictures of him on it (front, top, back)….and even if she says it's just crap?

I mean, really, somebody tell her to be reasonable.

**IMPORTANT! An on a totally unrelated topic, I have a survey/contest I would like you to participate in. Its only two questions and you can find it at the end of my profile. SO PLEASE! Okay, thank you for your time. **

Now I would like to thank the reviewers. Thanks to… **"****Black Roses of death****"**…. **"****Marmalade Fever****"** …. and for multiple reviews… **"****0.Black.Roses.0****" **Thank you to all of you, and I hope to hear from you soon.

* * *

_**Chapter Thirteenth**: Where The Horrors Of Over-Decorating Come Into Conversation, Draco Comes Up With An Evil Plan, and We Find Ourselves Witnessing The Outcome Of A Chapter With The Title Thirteen; Spending Time With Harry and Ron._

Friday the 29th came quickly…as quickly as the next day can….and it found Hermione, Ron, and Harry walking the grounds, talking about the good times and reminiscing on superb Quiditch games. Ron and Harry reminiscing, that is.

"So Hermione, are you going to the Halloween Ball?" asked Ron as he stuck his fist in a bag of Pimms Purple Popping Popcorn.

Hermione sighed dramatically. "Yes…I have to…Ginny is making me go. And to top it all off, she's dragging me to Hogsmeade Sunday to go look for a costume!"

Harry shivered. "I know how she can be. Last Easter she made me dress up in a lilac pastel suit and go around hiding eggs. As if **I** would go around hiding eggs!"

"That's not the half of it," said Ron through a mouthful of popcorn. "You should see her and Mum combined on Christmas. And I haven't even mentioned Thanksgiving, Wizards Day, Fifth of July, or…..ergg….Valentines Day. I can't even **talk **about it."

Hermione sighed. "At least its only one night. And I'll take lots of pictures, so we can laugh about the silly costume she will probably put me in. And so Ron can vent about the many boys Ginny dances with." she said evilly, looking sideways at Ron.

That comment worked, because he promptly spit out his popcorn and yelled, "WHHAAT! Ginny will not be dancing with any boys while I'm still her brother. I'm going to talk to her this instant! Harry, Hermione, excuse me." and Ron, face matching the popcorn, marched off to the castle.

Harry and Hermione fell over laughing. Really, it was funny. Like watching some purple boy get worked up over a sister who likes to dance with boys.

Oh, wait….bad example.

* * *

Draco muttered under his breath as he walked the hallways. All he needed was a….oh, shove it. What he needed was a way to get the suckers off the squid, and that was far from "all he needed." Really, this was huge. Because he was dealing with a Giant Squid. Pun intended.

He massaged his forehead and tried to think of ways to get the suckers off it. Dive in with one of those Scooby muggle things? "Scooby? Scooby, dooby, doo-dooo-dooooo…" he sang as he turned the corner. And then…WHAM!

Draco fell to the floor just in time to see a purple and red boy run past, muttering about Halloween Balls, sisters, and boys. Shaking his head to clear out the fuzzies, he continued up. He was going to berate the prat, but seeing as how a purple fellow might be a) dangerous. B) crazy, or c) unintelligent, he though better of it.

Then a though struck him. A brilliant, diabolical, evil, scheming, smoking with smarminess idea. 'Why don't I just ask Granger to help me?" he laughed manically. "She will be thinking that she's helping me with homework, while all along I'm plotting her demise! Whahahahahah!" brushing himself off, and with a self-righteous exhale through the nose, he went to the Head Rooms, to wait for his victim to show up.

Things were looking up.

* * *

_Late That Night_

Draco had stayed awake as long as he could, but eventually he felt the strain of the night on his eyelids, and went off to bed. Hermione arrived not two minutes later, muttering about how some stupid second grader couldn't read fast enough to check the book back into the library on time.

They had both fallen asleep, the wear of the day closing their eyelids and calming their breaths. The star were clear out side the window; the sky inky blue. A few owls hooted and flew about, and the wind played with the curtain in their bedrooms. But something was about to interrupt this clam and peaceful night. A thought had stuck in both of the young Heads minds at the same time, whilst they dreamed.

"Today was the thirteenth chapter of I'm Just A Flea!" they both said breathlessly, and both Draco and Hermione shot up from their beds at the same time, eyes bleary and wide eyed, hair amuss, and breathing shaky. "Thirteenth chapter…isn't something bad supposed to happen?" they both asked. But nothing had happening, and indeed, if it was the thirteenth, something would happen….but unfortunately these two were two tired out to think about just yet.

And as fast as they had awoken, they fell asleep just as quickly, both heads of the Heads hitting their separate pillows on their separate beds in their separate rooms, at the same time.

* * *

_Somewhere in the castle_

"No!" wept Seamus as we crawled through the doorway. "NOOOOOOO!" Dean sat the floor, cross-legged, tears running down his face. Colin Creavy huddled in the corner, heaving with shaky sobs. "Noooooo!" and Seamus pulled himself toward the center of the hallway. And there, right on the flagstones, was the bottle. It was broken and splintered, murky red glass shattered every were. A brownish red substance leaked out, and seeped through the floor.

"Noooo!" cried Dean as he lunged forward, but to no avail. The substance was gone, and they were all alone.

"Why?" cried Seamus for the last time. "Why is the rum always gone?' and he hiccupped, and tried to stand up. he staggered, and lifted a finger in the air. "Oh….hic….shhats whhhhy…." And fell back to the floor.

"No…no...hic!..." said Colin as he dried his tears. "I shink itsh gone becaush you dropped therrr bottle….hic!" and he fell asleep.

"Oh…." said Seamus, after failing to get up again, and rested his head against the floor. "Thtash…why then…."

"What rotten luck…hic!" said the less inebriated Dean. "On the nights of all nights….when we all finally got dates to the dance…and we were hic!...about to shelebrate….hic!...therrr bottle shmashess…HIC!" and Dean feel asleep as well.

Sometimes I think its would be best if I didn't write a thirteenth chapter.

It's not healthy for an author if the characters are sad. They might come after me.

* * *

**Author's Note: **First off, I know this is a short chapter, but I wanted to update soon, and see…I have this thing that only certain passages can go in a chapter. Like, say, the squid and costume scenes didn't go in here, because I felt that I wanted an appropriate ending…and because your loving author is evil, and wanted to give you a cliff hanger.

Review, and you get a baggy of caramel candies…and a toasted peanut-butter and jelly sandwich.

"What?" you say. "Where is my picture of Johnny Depp?" you yell.

Sorry, there are none left.

Because I have them all……

mmmwwwahahahahahah…..


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Author's Note That You Must Read Because I Say So**: Ok, here is your Fourteenth Chapter. I just want to thank everyone for reviewing, and for reading this, and for not flaming me. Really, I haven't got one flame! Though I wouldn't mind, it would actually be kinda funny.

Anyway, on to the reason that I wanted you to read this note….I still need more people for the survey. Really, it's super short. Like reaaalllllly short…..as short as….never mind, just take it.

Alright, I'll stop boring you and let you read.

(Much love to the Captain!)

**Disclaimer:** If you haven't been reading my disclaimer...then I guess I need to tell you that I don't own Harry Potter. Because it's pretty obvious that if I did own ol'Harry, I wouldn't be writing for a fanfiction website….I would be working on a time machine that spans the reality gap so **roundabout wickedness**, **Marmalade Fever**, **bwitched**, and I can go find Captain Jack Sparrow. Thank **roundabout wickedness** for that time machine idea. Anyway, to quote her… _"I don't think the captain would mind very muchly if we shared him. In fact, he'd probably prefer."_

Oh well….another dream…sob….down the drain.

* * *

_**Chapter** **Fourteen**: Where The Best Arguement You'll Find Is In Your Mind, We Find That Some Thoughts Are Better Left Unsaid, and Hermione Decides To Forgo A Trip To The Lake And A Visit To The Giant Squid; Asking Her _

Hermione stretched as tossed the blankets off her. It was 5:30….her usual time….and instead of getting ready for classes….she got ready to spend time with Ron and Harry. 'Today will be the last time I see them…" she said biting her lip while turning off her light.

She was about to exit the room when a familiar drawl stopped her. She rolled her eyes as, under her breath, she recited with Malfoy; "Off to see Potty and Weasel again?"

She snickered. "You know that you're really predictable."

He looked aghast. "What? I am not predictable…..I just like the familiarity of my words."

"Oh, we all know how much you like your own words, Malfoy. Sometimes we can't get you to shut up." she snorted.

Malfoy sniffed. "Fine, I won't ask you then."

_That_ caught her attention. "What were you going to ask me?" she said, ears perking up.

"No, no, you hath been rude to me…I don't think I shall tell you." He sniffed melodramatically and turned around, arms crossed.

Hermione sighed, exasperated. "Drop the melodrama….what did you want?"

"Fine…" he said quietly, turning around.

_Oh Merlin, as if those puppy eyes couldn't get any bigger, heck **I** would be falling for-HOLD UP A MINUTE! Now what did I just think?_

_That you thought his eyes were cute._

_No I didn't, I said the **puppy eyes** were cute. There's a big difference, you know._

_But they are **his** eyes._

_I don't even remember saying cute._

_But you said falling._

_I was kidding. I meant falling as in landing on the floor…like I slipped on a banana peel._

_Uh-huh…just admit it, you think his eyes are cute…_

_No I—wait, **why** am I **arguing** with myself? Is this even **possible**._

_Apparently._

_Shut-up and let me see what he wants.

* * *

_

Draco at this moment was wondering if he should call for Madame Pompfry. Granger seemed to be making threatening gestures at the air. And now that he though about it, he could hear her muttering things like "Banana peel" and "Shut-up," but then she turned back to him, and said in a voice even **Longbottom** could have recognized as stressed and fake, she asked;

"What can I do for you, Malfoy?"

_Good Merlin, she even flashed a fake smile._ _But now to turn on the "humble machine." _Draco coughed nervously and looked at the ground. "I…well…I…I…I need your help." He said quietly.

"Huh? Speak up, I can't hear you."

"Isaidineedyourhelp…." He said hurriedly, and looked down, shamefaced at the floor. Of course this was all fake. The smile, the cough, the rushing….except the needing help part. He defiantly needed help. Interpret that as you like.

"Help with what?" she said suspiciously. But he could tell, and excuse me for starting a sentence with a conjunction, that she was falling for it. He could tell that she wanted to know how she could help…bloody Gryffindors can't resist…..and that she believed every lying sniffle.

_Oh, bravo, m'boy. You got even the standoffish-cold Granger to fall for you, _said a small, sneaky voice in his head.

_Excuse me?_

_That's right, you turned on the charm. The suave. The pinch of dashing._

_WHAT? That is **not**, and emphasis on the not, what I wanted. I needed help to bring about her demise. As my mind**, you should** **know that**!_

_Riiiight….but you know, you could have asked Snape for suckers. Ever think of that?_

_But this is more evil._

_So is forcing a first year to get it for you. Don't be shy. What you wanted was to spend time with her…ooooohhhhh….alllooonnne..._

_**No, no, no…and no!** That is not what I ever, ever, in a gazillion years…and yes I said gazillion years…would want._

_Well I think your times up. I think that the gazillion years has looooonnnngggg passed, leaving you in the dust and seeing little dancing Hermiones around your head. Little Hermiones throwing about frilly pink hearts and wearing a little red dress._

_Gross…..and your bloody nuts. Your mad. Your insane. And you do not reflect me or my thoughts, because if you did, then that would mean I was insane, and that I fancied Granger…which, by the way, I don't._

_You do._

_I don't._

_You do._

_Don't._

_Do._

_Don't._

_Do too….and you can't un-prove me._

_Oh really? Can my fist un-prove you?_

_My dear, dear, Draco…that would result in you punching your own mind silly. And if I recall, your mind resides in your head. Unless you want to end up with a concussion, I think that would not be wise. Besides, we wouldn't want you to mess up your gorgeous face, now would we?_

_Fine. But shut up. I'm trying to get what I want!_

_And thats Granger….._

"Squid..…you bloody nut…I want giant squid suckers! #$!&!"

Oops…he said that last part out loud.

* * *

Hermione blinked several times. Then she rubbed her eyes and shook her head out. "Were you just…did I just hear…?" _Did I just see him…muttering under his breath? And what the hell was that last part about…squid?'_

"What the bloody hell did you say Malfoy? Giant squid?"

"Errr…noooo…I said "Kidd….you kid…you muddy klutz….And not try and kidd blockers…."

"What the dickens?"

"Err…today at practice….Blaise….umm…was trying to kid us…he tried to fake out the blockers….err defenders…whatever….and I told him he must be kidding. You had to be there, it was pathetic. Really, the worst feint I had ever seen. And he landing in the mud….you know…muddy klutz. So….what did you want?"

"Actually I was trying to figure out what you wanted…" _I'm pretty sure that wasn't what he said...at least,I think so. But I haven't been one to concentrate on Malfoy's prattle..._

"Oh right…" he turned back on the puppy eyes, "I would like to know if…you could help me with…homework."

Hermione burst out laughing. She could barely talk for gasping for breath. "The…the g…great Malfoy….wants…wants to have h…help from….from the Mudblood?" she held her side. "That's…that's **too** good to…to….to pass up!" Finally, she collapsed on the couch, clutching her side and giggling.

* * *

Draco found this all tedious. First…his own mind argues with him, then he shouts out his own thought….and then Granger starts to laugh at him. This day wasn't fair! 

Disgruntled, her flopped down next to her. "I don't see what's so funny."

She wiped her eyes. "You…just you...the arrogant little prick…the insolent, impertinent brat….the despicable…horrible….prat….."

"I think we got the point…"

"…prat…wants to ask the Mudblood he loves to torture…for homework help…because he can't do it himself! Oh, this is rich! Rich…rich...rich, rich, rich, rich, rich…richy rich…I swear, if you keep this up Malfoy, I will have more gold than you."

"That's not possible…I have way too much." Then he sniffed, and said "So will you help me?"

"Well…what do you need help on?"

"A potions project…'

"And…?"

"I need to collect a material…but I don't know how…."

"And what is it?"

"Well….its…" and he told her in a quiet voice like they do on shows and such, so that the audience can't hear…and this is where i tell you to go to my profile and take my survey because for all you non-Author's-Note-readers, you might not be informed...ehhhem!...and then we return back to Hermione, where the character usually goes….

"WHAT?"

"…yeah…."

'You want me to pull the bloody suckers off a squid?'

"A giant one…"

"Thanks for the commentary…"

"Well…now you see why I need help."

"No, that's not it…its…I can do this…really, I would of thought you would know this…I'm mad because you want **me** to bodily…physically pull the suckers off. Really, that's beneath me."

"And not many things are…."

Draco earned a resounding thwack on the head for that last comment. Still rubbing his sore cranium, he listened to Granger lecture on about something or other.

"..and so that's why the S section…or the B…can be helpful in the library…especially when looking for this…now….about pulling off the suckers…what you need, as instructed on page 224, paragraph 19…that to get the suckers off a giant squid….You merely need to ask…."

"Ask what?"

"Ask the squid, idiot."

"Well SO-ORY! for not realizing that I had to walk up to a freaking giant squid and say 'Excuse me sir, but may I have five suckers from your tentacle?' Really, I should have thought off that."

Apparently the girl didn't hear, because she resumed talking. Draco shook his head and wondering if this was going to work.

"….but I need to mention one thing…'

"What?"

"If your not **polite** enough…Mister Hippogriph Slandering And Then It Hurt My Arm And I Blamed Hagrid And The Animal Even Though It Was My Own Fault For Being A Prat……it will maim you. Really, it will. So there you have it…no you can go off to the lake and ask for your suckers…I have some quality time to spend with Harry and Ron now…" Granger got up and walked towards the door.

"Your not coming with me?"

"Uhhh…no?"

"But…but…what happens if I'm not polite enough?"

'Then I guess my year will get a little brighter…" and she left before Draco could figure out what she had said. After two minutes of pondering, he shouted at the portrait "HEY!"

But alas, she was long gone.

_Yes, isn't sad that she's gone, Draco. And to think, you wanted her to come with you to the lake._

_No, I did not. You bumbling, stupid….gaaah!_

_Now, now, don't hurt yourself. Then you wont be able to pine away at the thought of Hermione leaving you for…gasp!...Weasley._

_Excuse me…but we both know that 1) I do not pine away …even for a girl….especially not Granger….and 2) We both know that Weasel doesn't stand a chance against me, so if it so happened that I liked her…or she liked me….that she would chose me over Weasel in a heartbeat._

_Well then, I'll guess you won't lose sleep. Now all you have to do is ask her out…because as you said, she can't refuse you…_

_Why can't I just shoot you…_

_Eh….eh-heh….because that would be dangerous.

* * *

_

**Author's Note: **Oh dear…oh dear, oh dear…someone's getting violent.

Anyway, I think this is the longest chapter I have written, and I have but four things to say to you.

SURVEY! (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, I suggest you read the note up top.

REVIEW! And you get a toasty, yummy, sticky, sweet cinnamon bun.

Sorry for being completly neurotic and hectic about this survey thing, but so far I have only TWO responses from the survey. So really, try and bear me for a bit.

I LOVE CAPTAIN JACK SPARROW!

Arrivederci, amici.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Author's note:** Yikes! I am so sorry for leaving you in a big updating gap…the deep abysmal abyss of uncompleted stories…but it really wasn't my fault. It jolly well wasn't! Blame it on…du-du-duuuuhhhhhhh……my vacation to my grandparents house for five…four? Days. Its two an' a half hours away. And I didn't have time to write…I was swimming. Deplorable heat, I tell you…..

Anyway, if you can possibly forgive me…read this chapter. And if you can't…read it anyway. And if you can do both…balance a stack of yellow china plates and a bunch of hoopla music on your head while playing the banjo and reciting Ol' MacDonald fifty four and three sevenths times….take my survey on my profile. And if you can't….well, take it anyway….I beg you….I beseech you!...I ask you…mercy spare my life!-wait...I meant to say… take my survey…please.

Now that's out of the way, read my disclaimer, only because I can call you to court as a witness to claim that I stated that I do not own Harry Potter…even though my very top-secret, very dangerous, very deranged, under-cover high-profile take-over of a certain someone's rights to a certain something book….but you don't need to know about that.

**Disclaimer:** heheheheh….haahahah….mwhhahahahah….cakclecacklecacklecackle…..herumph….NoI do not own Harry Potter….yet….

* * *

_**Chapter Fifteen:** Where Ron Gets His Ego Poked, Harry Deals With Foreboding Gut Feelings, and Thy Narrator Who's In Cohorts With Thy Author Becomes A Portal For Horrifying Cliff Hangers; A Day For Friends_

Hermione sipped her Butterbeer contentedly, laughing as Ron turned scarlet as Madame Rosmerta brought the rest of their food. Ron stuttered a "thank you", as she passed, and when Ron almost had a heart attack as she replied, Hermione snickered.

"I don't see what's so funny, Hermione…" he sniffed, trying to cool down his burning cheeks. Mainly by throwing his nose in the air, and rubbing a piece of ice to his face.

"You know, it is the last day of September. I don't think it's so hot that you would flame up like that.'

Harry snickered and punched Ron in the arm. "Yeah, Ron. You know, I'm sure she likes you too."

"Yeah…just like last trip, she pinched you check and remarked about how old you've grown. And when she said kids were so cute at that age…" Hermione leaned back and watched at Ron squirmed.

"I'm a man, guys. I'm seventeen! Old enough to be considered one. My mustaches proves it."

Hermione giggled,"You mean that pale sprinkle of fuzz above your lip. Yeah, I'm sure it looks very dashing…if I could see it."

Ron threw his hands up in the air. "Fine! Fine, fine, make fun of me all you want…but don't you think it's a little old?"

"No." stated Harry as he took a big gulp of his drink.

"Maybe we should talk about…umm…make fun of Malfoy!" said Ron, desperate for a topic change.

"You mean like the fact that he parades around the school, five girls on his arm, and throws around punishments and insults to the younger years? Yeah, lets talk about the yank."

Harry snickered. "You'd think he'd wizen up. He didn't even realize that we made the back of his robes spell out "I'm A Ferret; Squish Me" in pink letters in Charms class."

"Well, he isn't admired for his street smarts, you know." said Hermione, snickering at the though of Malfoy blowing a top when fifty girls tried to hug him that day.

"Yeah. But he's admired for lots of things. Like he's great at Quiditch, is second best to Hermione in some classes, (not meaning that he comes in first, but someone else does, of course Hermione…dear…I didn't mean it like that….), and that he's has great agility, and he's very fast, did you see how fast he ran when Romilda Vane was chasing him?...no, no, she's changed her attentions lately….and all the girls think he's really hot."

"**What**, Ron you insufferable lump, are you trying to say? You are the one who brought up the whole, Make-fun-of-ferret game. Are you trying to ruin my _groove_, or something? Geez." Hermione huffed in disappointment.

"I was only saying…"

"You would think you had a fancy for him, or something." remarked Hermione.

"What! That's blooming larky. Really, consider the source for a mo', chap! It's blinking freaking Malfoy, the winner of the Biggest Yank of the Year award. I'm hurt that you think that I like him. It's as pre…pre…what's that word, Hermione? Preposterous to think that…blimey mate….Merlin's Gluteus….."

"I was just saying." said Hermione offhandedly, smirking as Ron's face rose another degree in temperature.

"I'll have you know, I like someone else." Ron said gruffly, drowning out the words in his mug of Butterbeer.

"Who is it?" said Harry, feigning mock interest in Ron's love life. Ever the sharp one…actually… And surprisingly, Ron noticed. There. That felt so much more believable.

"It's a girl…in our year….um….she's really nice….um…a-a-and she's uh…..uh…smart….urk…um…but I betcha you want to know the name right?" he smirked as their faces perked up. "But I'm not going to tell you…it's a secret, chaps…"

"Tell us…we're **dying** to know…" said Hermione sarcastically.

"D-don't say that word, Hermione." said Harry, feigning a swoon.

She snorted. "Really Harry, melodrama boy of the year. Maybe you should lighten up on the 'me' act." She chuckled at the indigiant look on Harry's face.

"What 'me' act? You bolly well know I'm talking about Harry Potter, not you. If I was doing the 'me' act, I would be talking about Hermione Granger. And then it wouldn't be a 'me' act. It would be a 'you' act. Which when **you** say it….well…never mind…And to think, they say you are soooo smart." He sat back in his chair and grinned.

"Wait a second…but what is a 'me' act? What the bloody hell do you mean?" Ron scratched his head, waiting for an answer.

"Nothing Ron…." Hermione said sweetly, smiling beautifully at him. Unconsciously she patted his hand.

Ron blushed like mad, as Harry looked on, a bit confused, a bit happy, and a bit at the mercy of a gut feeling, that told him that Ron might be leaving a bit of himself behind.

But what was worse, was the feeling that Hermione might not even notice the bit of Ron behind at all.

And what was **even** worse….he felt a considerable amount of discomfort, leaving Hermione behind to deal with Malfoy.

But then the deep narrator-ish voice in the background starts to speak as the scene dims and the characters freeze…and it says… "But little did the unsuspecting Hogsmeade Hogwarts students day-trippers weekenders know…that it wasn't Hermione who would have to deal with Malfoy…it was Malfoy who would have to deal with Hermione…and that, my dear audience…is why we should feel sorry for him…."

And then the voice fades into the music, the lights go up, and people are ushered out of their seats and into the lobby to buy the next pair of tickets to see "I Am Just A Flea"

* * *

**Author's Note;** Short, I know. Terribly short, but in retrospect, it gives you a taste of what's to come. 

Oh, you want to know what's to come?

Plenty of romance, angst, and trips to a fro plot bunnies. Yes, it and I will be weird at first, but when I finally take out my secret weapon, the Gun of Random Plots, stay with me. Because I am so sure it will tie up in the end.

Hopefully.

Well anyway, for now enjoy the comfort of a coherent story line.

Read, Review (for a glazed virtual Krispy Kreme donut), cross yon fingers, and be safe.

Arrivederci, amicis!


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Author's Note:** Hmmm…I hope you like this chapter. It took me forever to write and edit and preview…stupid writers block…and inefficient time schedule…grrr... But don't worry, it is here at last. (Signal trumpets and cheering crowds)

Oh yes, I have also found a new hobby. Writing songfics. Zeus Galore, but I have about 20 I am planning to write, and I think that might be over doing it….think?

Anyway, here's the ridiculously time consuming chapter…hahaha…

**Disclaimer:** Do I even have to write it?

* * *

_**Chapter Sixteen: **Where An Underground Society Gets Flushed Out…Almost, Fruit Will Cause Hermione Much Aggravation, and Their Minds Revisit for A Bit: Needing Help_

To think that someone might be as desolate as to go to Draco Malfoy for help is a grossly colossal understatement. You would have to be horrifyingly head sick, crazy in the kook, merging into traffic, parallel parking, or falling off a cliff. And since Hermione Granger was neither one of these; she didn't go to him.

No, no. Hermione's _leetle_ problem could be solved by merely going to her best friend. The one with the scar. And glasses. The famous one. You know, Harry Potter? That one? Anyway, she promptly picked up her schoolbag, and at six in the afternoon, went to visit him.

But we are getting ahead of ourselves. We need to know what her problem was about, and her problem was one that included Head Duties…and an underground society consisting of vole-worshipping and toilet explosions. Yes, yes, very WeaslyTwin-esque…in fact she is still investigating that bit…but the important part was that our dear Hermy got a slip of gossip while she was prowling the library.

As one small Third Year, flanked by a mischievous Fourth Year and one daring Second, sat down at a table, on the other side of the book shelf were she was spying-um browsing, Hermione got suspicious.

"Oh-ho!" she though, mentally thinking of ways to punish them. "Trying to scheme in **my** library, eh? Well, not today, Meesters Puny, Gum-in-Hair-Sticker, and Book Defacer. Now, let's just see what you have in store."

Oh, but sadly, at the moment they were about to reveal their secret plan, at exactly five-thirty in the afternoon, Saturday the 30th, after a good day of Hogsmeading with Harry and Ron, a distraction came into her little area. A distraction labeled Draco Malfoy.

I know, I know. I don't know what to do either. Scream, run, ignore, giggle, swoon, or die? Tough, tough choice.

But she could do nothing, except try to strain her ears, and hopefully listen to their plans over the loud munching. What loud munching, you say? The ones caused by the great pain-inducing git Draco Malfoy, who at the moment had a piece of fruit, currently known as an apple, or Malus pumila.

"Sssshhhh….." she said, throwing furtive looks at him.

He shrugged, and continued to make faces at her.

"Shhhhh." she said again, and this time added one wallop on his head. "And you're not supposed to be eating in the library, now shoo!"

"Your not supposed to be eating in the library…!" mocked Malfoy in a fake-falsetto voice. He snorted. "Give it a break, Granger. And why do I have to be quiet?"

"Ssssshhhhh!" she turned around and folding her arms, tried to look him straight in the eye.but did not accomplish it, I'm sad to say, seeing as how he was about a half-foot taller. She growled.

"Bite me." He said, and took another noisy and crunchy bite of apple.

She wrinkled her nose at the thought. "Shut up ferret, before I am tempted to do so." Why is he such a jerk? I mean let me ask you…why?

"Why are you such a jerk? Let me ask you…why?" she said. Ah...I love the sound of her witty, totally original words. Like honey in peanut butter.

"I am what I am…meaning I am the one and only Sexy God of Hogwarts. Worship me!" as he made the godly stance. Slightly ruined by the piece of apple sticking out of his mouth, if you ask me.

"…who is in need of some therapeutic sessions…." she said, backing away, while holding back the urge to puke. "Seriously, Malfoy, get a life."

"But I do have a life!" he said, pouting. Oh, the complexity of the male ego. Vastly inflated, yet as fragile as the patience of Hermione Granger. With one snap of a witty insult, the male world can come crashing down around their ears. Gives you lots of opportunities for revenge, I might add…

"Yeah….and I'm on Zabini's Date List. And Harry can't play Quiditch. And Ron can sing. And Lavender doesn't fancy you."

"Thanks for the commentary…."

"…and you're not a jerk. And Pansy isn't...well…you know. And you're on Professor McGonagall's Favorite list. And you are as smart as me. And you're good looking. And a wonderful person. With a wonderful personality. And the world revolves around you."

"I think I get it…" he sniffed and straightened his robe. "But I do have a life…thank you very much."

"Shut up, I'm trying to hear." She waved a hand at him and turned around, peering intently at the schemers.

"What are you doing?" came a whisper in her ear, and suddenly Malfoy had his head next to hers, whispering secretly. Oh Good Merlin, if there ever was a time for him to meddle…he had to pick now.

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up, will you? This is none of your business. Now…shoo!"

Apparently he ignored her, for he started to sing his own rendition of "I'm a Little Teapot!" Hermione turned around, eyes crazed, breath quick, hands clenched, and she wildly considered the consequences of choking him to death.

"Malfoy…" she said in a sickly sweet saccharine voice, "What are you doing?"

* * *

Draco looked at her. "I'm singing, silly…" really, couldn't that woman understand what a true art form is? 

"Oh really? Hmm…and do you perchance happen to own a cat?" She blinked sweetly at him and continued in her honeyed, singsongy voice.

What is she babbling on about? "No...I don't think so…why?"

"Oh, I was just wondering if you took lessons from a cat. And from the sound of it, I'm guessing in…Screech Minor? Or Catfight Major?"

Draco stood still, shocked. No one had ever dared mock him like that before. Mock his…his…his singing! It was unspeakable.

_Really, really, unspeakable, you know dear Draco._

_Oh…it's you again._

_Well don't sound so pleased!_

_I'm not._

_That was sarcasm, you moron._

_Hey! Aren't you supposed to be on my side? Stop calling me names!_

_Well, if you didn't act like one…_

_Never mind, just get to the point. Why are you here!_

_I'm your mind, you insufferable git. _

_No, no, I mean, why are you talking to me?_

_Oh yes, I was just visiting for a bit of a chat…mainly to talk about this little episode._

_? Ehhh…whaaaaaat?_

_Wow, would you look at that comment. A singing insult? My, my, never though she had it in her. Did you?_

_Well…no…_

_Oh, is that…admiration, I'm sensing? A bit of awe? Wonder? Respect? Amazement? Wonderment? _

_**WHAT!**_

_Yes, that's right. Let your feelings out. You can't help but think that she's one remarkable young lady…_

_You're bloody, bloody nuts! I could never, never, ever like someone like her! She's tainted! She's disgusting! She's unworthy! Stuck up! Pratty! Bitchy! Righteous! A know it all! Annoying! And most of all, and importantly…she's ugly! Draco Honestus Malfoy does **not** date **ugly** girls!_

_Hehehe….snort_

**_What now?_**

_You….hehe…..have a girly middle name, you know?_

_What? It's not girly! It's manly and honorable! It's Latin for honorable, respectable; fine, beautiful; proper….and besides, as my little voice, it's your name too…or have you forgotten all that barmy tradition and what not._

_But it sounds girly on you, though. Hehehehe...snort…giggle…Honestus…snort…Honey-honey-honesti…Honesta, I'm home!_

_Stop! It's noble and princely!_

_What ever you say Dracia…._

_Quit it!_

_Hmmm…noooo_

_Just stop! Talk about something else….oh shit._

_Yes, yes, you mean like how you **adore** Hermione Granger?_

_I do not…you worthless brain. She is the scum of the earth. She **isn't supposed to be here**! **My** family is proper, a **pure** Wizarding family. She shouldn't be here, because she wasn't born into it. She can't just come frolicking in here, and then BAM! Become someone special? She can't...she won't…I will stop her. She isn't a Wizarding family. She is a working class muggle. It…it…why should she be here? When…it's not her place?_

_I see I've hit a rather…brittle…spot. I'll come back later, hmm?_

_Go teach Snape to suck eggs._

_Ohhh…I'll think I'll leave now…see you around…?_

_Die.

* * *

_

Hermione looked at him, wondering why he was muttering again. _This has happened before._

_Yes…it's quite alarming, isn't it?_

_Oh, so you're' back._

_Yes darling, I am._

_So…want to talk about anything special?_

_Nope, just commenting on how ridiculous he looks. Waving his hands in the air…hissing…oh my, is he…IS HE MESSING UP HIS HAIR! This is serious…so I think I'll leave now…have fun…_

_Wait! You can't leave! Malfoy is possibly crazy! Stop!_

_Sorry…oh, he **does** look deranged.

* * *

_

**Author's Note: **Mmmmm-nuuhhhh….No, I still think that chapter reeked. Circe-almighty, review so my head may be inflated again. I'll hug you if it makes me feel better.

Ahhh….uhhhhh….well….Crumpets for whoever reviews….(thank you Sylvaen for that idea…I was running out of goodies. ;)

Ciao bellas….and bellos….because I feel like treating you for informally. Why? I have become attached. Or it's shorter to write.

P.S. Ciao bellas is "goodbye beautiful"…but it is meant for girls. Bello is for a boy. If you're a boy, and you read this, tell me so I don't insult you. If none of you are boys….then I'll type "ciao bellas" instead of "ciao bellas and bellos"….just because I'm lazy twerp…with even lazier fingers.

P.P.S. I was wondering, as I was writing this, why Draco, and other purebloods, despise muggleborns. I was thinking from Draco's point of view, that he thought that the muggles were intruding on his territory. Like the purebloods had the right to be the best and show off their magic skills because they came from magic families, and when some muggle kid came and upset the order, by becoming the best, he felt like this was all wrong. If that was too confusing…forget I said it.

* * *

**IMPORTANT! **I am announcing the winner of the survey thingy ma-bob...**_And the winner of the Dedication of A Oneshot goes to..."Sams Firefly"! Wooooo!_**

Yes, yes, you just want to know what the couple will be, right? Okay...and unsurprisingly..since I did ask a bunch of Draco/Hermione obsessed fans...its Draco and Hermione!

Now, Sam's Firefly, if you would like to specify the mood for the oneshot...fluff/angst/drama/ or bawl your eyes out... message me. If you don't care...then I'll chose! If you didn't read this, well, I'll just messge you...but then again if you didn't read this then why am Iwriting this? Oh well.

Look out for more survey's and other stuff in the future!


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Author's Note:** Okay, I first want to say sorry for not updating for the last three weeks, but I haven't had **any** time on the computer for **ever**! First, I had a week long soccer camp. (It was 5-8…i ate dinner at 8:something for a week!) then I went camping with my dad, then the last week Verizon shut off our internet, and so my email didn't work anyway…so if you

Anyway, I need to thank my reviewers. Good grief, there are so many. Okay, well, here we go:

Gwinna

Dark-Days

roundabout wickedness

macaday me a nut

EarthyGrl

DrowningSilently

Phoenix flame01

Marmalade Fever

Yuki's Girlfriend

Mary-Anne Grace Malfoy

heartthrobe

BeautifullyBrokenx3

NoteBookLove

macaday me a nut

DarkFlame

Sam's Firefly

Sylvaen

Gwinna

yumbuckets7

Marmalade Fever

GalaxyStorme

Sam's Firefly

macaday me a nut

Gwinna

Marmalade Fever

annie

Why, you ask, are there multiple entries of the same name? Because they are reviewers from a different chapter. See…I have been bad hangs head in shame I haven't thanked you guys for so long…that I have to do people more that once, just because they sniff have loyally reviewed each chapter…oh, I love you all!

Umm…anyway, thanks you all for pulling me out of that funk I was in last chapter. I really didn't like it, and I thought it stunk, but judging from your reviews, you proved me wrong.

Thank you again, and here is your long awaited chapter.

**Disclaimer:** ein klein natschmuzak…actually, I think, with a tiny spelling change, that is "night music" in German…from a piano book, that's how I know…what?

And that didn't have any bit of connection to the disclaimer.

Hahaha.

* * *

_**Chapter Seventeen: **In Which Circumstances Are Unusually Helpful to Said Plot, Draco Is In Danger Of Drowning From Non-existent Rain, and Teleprompters Go Awry: Going to Harry for Help._

"_Tis chapter seventeen already? Wow!"…and don't worry. Hermione didn't say that. Neither did Draco. Voldemort might have, though. _

Hermione huffed as she walked down the corridor, heading for the Gryffindor Common Room. "Well, I most certainly escaped without much harm, I should say." She thought to herself as she angrily kicked the ground.

Yes, as much damage as you can escape when a partially crazed Draco Malfoy is interrupting your eavesdropping. Sigh. At least she did get **some** use out of it.

Through all the munching and crunching and hair pulling and the instances of mild insanity…she did get a couple of snippets of the schemers conservations. Something about "abandoned boys bathroom." "explosives" and "tonight, eleven thirty."

_Eerily helpful, if you ask me. Snort._ You might have though she was in some…some sort of fan fiction! With well timed plot enhancement! Ha-ha…what a laugh.

Like that would ever happen.

* * *

Draco scowled as he made his way back to the Head Common Room. "Good lord, Granger must have though I was crazy."

_Well, you are._

_URKARGGURLEAAAAAAGHHHH!_

_Sniff. No need to get choked up. I'm still here, you know._

_Honestus…why…why! Why do you insist on being with me! On commenting on my **every** thought! Why?_

_Just remarking, old boy. There's a time and place for everything._

_I hate you…and…uh…and I'm not crazy!_

_Well, I can't really comment on the head crazy bit at the moment, but you most certainly **are** crazy in love wi-_

_Shut up! No no no no no no no! I am not! You bungling idiotic annoying interrupting agonizing hair pulling screecher yanker that I **ever** had the displeasure of being with!_

_Fine. I can see where I am not wanted._

After Draco stopped hyperventilating, he snobbishly brushed very nonexistent lint off his shoulder and walked on, with a nose that if held any higher would drown him in the rain.

* * *

Hermione knocked on the door of Harry and Ron's dorm room. She checked her watch for the sole purpose of checking her watch…which I may remind you everyone does…unless you don't have one and then you franticly ask people what the time is while they look at you as if you were stupid or crazed and patronizingly say "12:something." Or you look around for a wall clock, twisting your head and drawing attention from people who are being disturbed by your necessary head and body twisting, and when you finally do get the time, you forget it a second later, and have to go through the search all over again….

I shudder to think what would happen if I cared about being on time.

In any case, this is not the point of my monologue. It is to give a chance for me to say that the time is "6:00", so that I can reinforce the statement I made in the previous chapter…about Hermione going off to find help from Harry at exactly six in the afternoon…which it now was.

And so, at six in the afternoon…though suppose it could really be six-oh-five right now…or six-ten…Hermione knocked on the dorm door, hoping that Harry and Ron where there.

And miraculously…and eerily convenient, they were.

"Hermione! Come in, come in." Harry ushered her in. "C'mere, I need you to double check this list…I can't seem to think that…and Ron, don't do that…no, no, the other bag. Ron! I told you, only **ten** chocolate frogs each! Good grief! We're fighting **Voldemort**! Not some fluffy fairy. Rations boy, rations!

"Geeezz…" muttered Ron as he took a couple frogs out.

"Um…actually Harry," said Hermione as she laid down the list on the bed, now stamped with her seal of approval, (hey, she's got big business now, she **has** to have her own stamp) an owl surrounded by teetering books, with moved and swayed about on the paper, "I actually need something of yours."

"Okay, what? As long as it's not the invisibility cloak. Ron and I kinda need that."

"No, no, it's the map."

"Oh…why?" said Harry said, scratching his head.

"Well…" and Hermione took a deep breath. And, in those weird cartoonist panel changes, Hermione suddenly had a military uniform on, a map of the school on a table that wasn't there before in front of her, and a pointer, which is wonderfully flexy, may I remind you. Hey, those are so fun…and more so when you flick 'em in peoples eyes.

Just kidding. Promoting violence and criminal behavior? Encouraging bullying? Me? Noooo… No me. Never. No.

"Gentlemen," she said, and Ron and Harry sat down on two conveniently places chairs behind them. Not that she told them to, but that her tone of voice commanded it. Ever seen Hermione in military apparel? I think not.

Intimidating even.

"I have called you here on a very important matter."

"Actually, you didn't, you came to us." Ron said, a magnificent batch of puzzlement on his cheery little face. Umm…a bit too far…I don't think I would describe his face as cheery and little…

"Quiet, maggot!" and she shook her head. "Anyway, like I was saying, on a very important matt-"

"What's with the uniform?" Ron interrupted again, this time bravely getting up.

"Sit down, Mr.Weasly! Show respect! Give me fifty laps! Two-hundred pushups! Hup to hup to! Now, now, now! Dive!"

Ron, now considerably scared, sat down, eyes open in fright. Harry coughed nervously, and intelligently gave his full attention to Hermione. He wouldn't dare otherwise.

You wouldn't dare otherwise. They wouldn't dare otherwise. I wouldn't dare otherwise.

On with the story.

Satisfied that they were behaving, she began again. "**Like **I was saying, I come to you on a very important matter. It seems as though we have some schemers in our Hogwarts midst. Coming from an underground society, one which I cannot give the any further details on…classified top grade A secret shhhh hush hush mums the word…..I have gathered sufficient and intelligent information, which I need not disclose, information which is necessary in letting me go forth and stop Saddam Hussein from-wait, sorry, it seems my teleprompter is broken."

Hermione got up and went over to it, and after much fiddling around, slapping the top, and swearing, she resumed her position and continued. "Which is necessary in letting me go forth and stop theses vile tricksters. Unfortunately, I am in need of your assistance. You see, gentlemen, I cannot be in one place at that same time…err, one time at two places…make that two places in one time...wait, never mind." She paused for effect.

"What I need is the map, to properly locate the pranksters, just when they enter the designated spot, and be sufficiently able to arrest them-I mean reprimand them, on the spot. I know you trust me that I trust you to trust me about this whole issue on trust and I trust you know that I will not let anyone know how I got the location for said tricksters. 'nuff said." She flicked her pointer to the map.

"Gentleman…do I have your vote? Are you my ally? WILL WE WIN THIS WAR TOGETH-wait, sorry, this thing is broken again. Never mind, I know the rest. Ahem!….can I count on you to help me help you to help me help my self help the school help find the tricksters? Or will you sit on your bum and fiddle around while I waste away knowing that the nuclear weapons are still-why is it still reading? I didn't need to say that! Anyway, will you let me not catch these varmints, or will you help me help you to help me help the school's safety by helping the Prefect squad catch these students!" she rose into a stance, head held high, pointer dangerously whipping about.

"uhhh…sure? Hermione?" Harry said, unsure about what to say.

Ron on the other hand, had quite the different approach. "GO! GO! Yeah! We'll catch them! Yeah! Safety for school! Whoo! Great speech, commander! Yeah! Our approval rating went wwaaaaayyyy up!" he stopped and did a double take. "Why did I say that? We don't have approval ratings!" he shrugged, "Anyway, great speech, Hermione. And, I mean, we can't use it, so you can have it. Right, Harry?'

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Now, uhh...Hermione, we really need to pack. So, if we don't see you at dinner, sniff, we'll miss you!"

"Yeah, I know. Well, goodbye! I'm off to catch Saddam-why do I keep saying that?" and, magic map of Hogwarts in hand, she left the room, humming a song that sounded suspiciously like a war march.

Good grief.

* * *

**Author's note:** Hm….Hermione might have went a little overboard. No matter.

No, no, I know what you are thinking… you're thinking; "How the hell does this go along with the story?"

Hehehe…never fear…my overworked over diabolic and over used brain had made a connection with said Draco, said Hermione, said squid, and said map….

You were warned…

Anyone who reviews gets a basket of Silly Putty! (pastel and sunshine colors included…)


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Author's Note:** Okay, first of all, sorry for not updating sooner, again, but life is hectic. I get home at 6 because of soccer practice, so that doesn't leave much time for updating, but I'm trying my best!

Now, I have to ask your opinion. Would you like the ending to be sad/tragic/dramatic/not happy….or do you want to ending to be happy/yeah/everyone's okay/fall in love smuchk.

Because the thing is, if I end this one a tragic note, there is a 100 percent certainty that I will do a sequel. But if I do a happy ending, well…there's only 40 percent chance at best.

And that might be higher than reality.

So please, even though the end is way away, I have to start planning now, because I have two endings, and you guys can help me keep things in order.

* * *

**And To Thank:**

**kie-san**: _Thanks! Remember, I love feedback, so if you think something needs to be changed, or you have an idea, don't hesitate to tell me! So if it loses it's funny-ness, quick! Tell me!_

**yumbuckets7**: _Ginny will be taking her on a shopping trip tomorrow, October 1. (Hey, that's the actual date in the story. Sunday Shopping, anyone?_

**Sirenic Griffin**: _Brussels Sprouts are better than uh…well…dying, for once. ; )_

**Bubbly Spirt**: _I know! I love that song too…_

**Phoenix flame01**: _Thanks! I am a great portrayer…(takes on heroic stance)_

**Bubbly Spirt**: _Thanks! (Formally known as Earthy Grl…)_

**Karma-k2**: _I am a sadist….hehehehe_

**Dark**-**Days**: _I LOVE…spell it L.O.V.E. Lemony Snicket_

**BlueEyedDragonChild**: _Thanks for reviewing, reading, and putting up with me!_

**macaday me a nut**: _yeah, homework sucks…_

**Tedd.E.Bare**: _Don't worry, its getting there. We can't just jump right into the plot-pool, now can we? Draco has to make the potion first before that happens. _

**Sam's Firefly**: _ I'm glad I still draw laughs. Thanks!_

**Black Roses of death**: _No silly putty? Oh well, more for me!_

**Gwinna**: _Thanks for reviewing, faithful Gwinna…for enduring me throughout the ins and outs of marriage…wait, wrong speech. Hmm…my teleprompters broken too…_

**Marmalade Fever**: _Ahhh! Gargoyles! Batman! Whooo! Type fast, baby. We're living on the edge!_

Well, that my excitement for the day…

* * *

**Disclaimer: **You're rich, I'm not. You're dumb, I'm hot. You're tall, I'm short. You're the owner of the copy rights, I'm smart. Blah blah….yeah. I don't own it.

* * *

_**Chapter Eighteen**: A Tale of Too Much Boredom, In Which Draco Takes a "Mindful" Stance, and A Pepper-Up-Soup Can Only Do So Much For Ones Disposition; In Which Draco Finally Gets "Fishy"_

It had been a **long** night. On top of the fact that she still had five thousand seven hundred and point eight three sheets of paperwork to finish and file on this whole darn fiasco, Hermione was…bored.

Amazing, I know.

Because not **once** in the history of Harry Potter had Hermione Granger, aka "Smartest Girl in School", aka "Nerd, aka "Oooo I love To Read Hand Me A Book", aka "Is Draco Malfoys Future True Love As Described So in All Fanfics You Read Nowadays"… she was bored. No, she always had a book with her, homework with her, Harry and Ron with her to lecture or teach or scold or frown as said Draco Malfoy made fun of them. No. Because right now, in this historical moment, homework did not bother her. Books did not please her. And at ten fifty-seven, what she needed was a refreshing walk conveniently down by the lake.

And what does she do? She walks down to the lake. Because she is a woman on the edge! She does what she wants! Whoooo!

Well, I think we've had enough of that…aherm…

* * *

Draco forced himself to sit up. Damn. Damn…world. Damn…potion. Damn…long instructions. Damn…Granger for being so elusive. Damn…granger for making him do this. Damn…his obsessive infatuation with her-WHHHAAAATTT THE HELL DID I JUST SAY? 

Draco looked around, wondering if anyone heard him. Not that they would, because he had been thinking the whole time. But he was tired, and he still had to go down to the lake to retrieve a giant squid tentacle. Boy, was he pumped for this!

Note the sarcasm intended in his voice.

Anyway…Draco pulled himself up off the couch, retrieved his fashionable sweater, and headed out of the Common Room, hoping to get this done in time. Then…ahh…pure bliss. He could focus on HOW to annoy Granger correctly, and then pick out a costume for the Halloween Ball. For…for it's the 30th of September! In 31 days he has to manage to make himself look even more gorgeous-er-er-er…"Sniff." Draco pulled a smug grin and popped his collar. "I can handle it; after all…I am the most handsome sexiest of all-SMACK!"

Alas, dear Draco had walked into a wall.

* * *

Hermione shivered as she pulled her thin sweater around her. If she had known it would have been this cold she would have her extra thick cardigan. Boy, was that dumb of her. No matter. 

Ahead of her, down the expansive lawn, past a thin grove of trees, sat the lake, shining under the moon's dim glow, the wind playing ripples across its surface; the twinkling fey-lights casting shadows and lights across the billow, igniting the wispy mists that spun across its top.

She walked down to its edge, and sat down, cross-legged, watching as it lapped again the shore, fed by the rivers cold swell. She didn't even notice when a figure crept up behind her. Softly it touched her shoulder…

* * *

Draco trudged down the dirt path, winding his way between the young saplings. He pondered, for just a second, if he would have appreciated this moment more if he was more humble, kind, generous, deep, and nicer to poor Granger...Nah….he was perfectly content the way he was. Right? 

So as he rubbed his smarting face, which as still sore after his encounter with said castle foundations, he noticed a small figure sitting by the lake, deep in thought…or asleep….or possibly dead. Prone to moments of curiosity, and moments of spontaneity, he walked softly over to them, and as quietly as ever, touched their shoulder….

* * *

Hermione started as she felt the hand upon her arm. Her head spun around, her face came three inches away from another, her nose almost touching his, her eyes staring into the gray recesses of the eyes just level to hers. And in the split second, she felt a stranger than strange feeling come over her. Part flying, part floating, part nauseous and part dizziness; a high she did not, nor has ever, comprehended. And then she realized who it was….

* * *

Draco stood dumbstruck for a second, looking at her, when his brain finally clicked in, and he jumped back, horror on his face, and he exclaimed, "GRANGER!" 

"Merlin Malfoy, girls don't have cooties, you know." She said huffily. Draco just shook his head.

"D-d-don't do that! Don't scare me like that! I can't take it!"

"What the heck are you babbling on about? **You** snuck up on **me**, stalker!"

"I am not a stalker! You just happen to be in the same place that I am in" Women! Really, you can never figure them out…

"Stalker…"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Am not!"

"Am too!...wait…heeeeeyyyy…:"

"See? You admitted it. Oh…and its "are too". Get your grammar right." She smirked smugly, a look that reminded him eerily of someone.

"Stupid fuc-" he stopped as Granger slapped him on the head.

"Mind your language! Circe!"

"See…you swore…" Draco grumpily rubbed his head, wondering why he put up with her.

"I did not." She crossed her arms and gave him the "accuse-me-again-and-you-will-regret-it-forever…" look.

"….hhheermmmm mumble mumble mumble aaaa hhhaaaaaeeeerrrrmmmm….ehhegmn…."

"What was that?' she asked, finally standing up.

"Nothing," Draco said. Really, women can be so…so….

_Pretty?_

Draco started, eyes open in fright and uneasiness. No…not this time. I will not look like an idiot on front of her. I will just…just ignore him. Yes, ignore him.

_You don't want to seem crazy? Is that because you like her and want her to admire you?_

Draco nervously rubbed his head and said shakily, "Sooo...what are you doing here?"

* * *

Hermione wrinkled her nose, praying that Malfoy wasn't going off the deep end. Trying to ignore the weird look on his face, she replied, "Taking a walk. Oh, and by the way, WHERE WERE YOU TONIGHT? I HAD TO TAKE CARE OF A CODE 14-ACBLUE BY **MYSELF**!" 

"errr…I was…napping?"

What is with men? Napping? Oh, Merlin, that was a good one. "Really. Was Pansy with you?" Hah, got you now. Thinking you can fool me? Not likely, you big fat smuck, you…

"Jealous, huh?"

..big fat idiot. Hah! Really, who does he-**what did he say?** Hermione did a double take. "What did you say?"

"I said, you're not jealous, are you?" he smirked.

Hermione clenched her fits to her side. "Jealous? Jealous of a big, pompous jerk and his slutty, stupid, cheesy, fake, disgusting, one of many girlfriends? Not likely." For emphasis she poked him in the chest with her wand, creating a rather satisfying response of "Ow!" from him. Life is good…as long as you look for the smaller things.

* * *

Draco rubbed his sore chest. Did she have to be so rude? After he was spending weeks of his time to find out what she thinks of him… **this** is how she treats him? "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm down here to…. **Ask** for the squid tentacle, if you please." 

"Oh…you still haven't done that yet? What's taking you so long?"

"Well, if you haven't noticed, I ma not exactly large on time, missy." Unlike you, you ugly fat bookworm.

_Ugly…sure._

Draco shook his head. "Now if you will excuse me, I…I…I have to ask a squid for his…tentacle. Can you…uh…leave me be?"

"Why?" she said, smirking a little.

He-wait, did she smirk? Did she **smirk**? Smirking was **his** thing! Why is she trying to still **his** look! And what's more infuriating is that she pulls it off…rather…_nicely!_

_Cutely, I think you mean. Look at that smirk. Doesn't it make you just wanna kiss her and…_

Draco, at the end of his rope, smacked the side of his, hoping to shake the voice off. Fortunately, in the last bit of fortune he could muster, the voice did go away. And it left him feeling rather cheery.

"Well, now, if you don't excuse me, I have a squid to romance. Pardon me!" he walked toward the edge of the lake.

* * *

Hermione saw him walking toward the lake, still smirking at his dorkness. If someone could be any more dorkier, why, she would eat her wand and…and why is something nagging at the back of my mind? Something about…clothes? Am I remembering something about shopping? No, no, I don't shop. Is it about...squid? Clothes? 

Wait…squid…giant squid…clothes…tentacles…oh dear…"DRACO, STOP!"

Malfoy did a turn on the spot. "Did you just call me Draco?"

"That doesn't matter…I just remembered something…."

"Speak up…I can't hear you when you talk in a spooky hushed voice."

"I remembered something…about the squid. About when you ask for its tentacle. You have to…err, I mean….uh…I'm going back up to the castle, kay?" Hermione started to back away.

* * *

Oh no she doesn't. What is she up to? Striding quickly over to her, Draco grabbed her arm. "What did you remember, booky. Huh? Tell me. I am not risking my new haircut for…for…for…uh, nothing. Now, **tell me**." 

"Um…um…it's about the squid. He uh… See, it…uh…itdoesntlikeclothes!"

"Eh?"

"I said…itdoesntlikeclothes. Youhavetoaskitnakedbecauseitdoesntlikeclothes!"

Draco blinked. "Good one, Granger. Now I know I'm irresistible, but do you really think I'm gonna take it off for **you** becau-"

"Deflate the ego, Malfoy. Hermione Chatsworth Granger does not fool around with facts."

Draco sniggered. "Chatsworth? What kind of middle name is that?'

"Better than Honestus, don't you think?"

"I…what…how did you know?"

"You forget who the Research Queen is, bub." She smirked **his** smirk again.

Draco grimaced. "Fine, Granger, fine. Just…don't get any ideas. Do I really have to ask it naked?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I'm afraid so." She sighed. "Well, I'm leaving. I have to get a good night sleep. Ginny is dragging me to Hogsmeade tomorrow. It's October tomorrow, you now? Almost winter. Then again, not like it's not already cold." She stopped and frowned for a second, and then started to grin. "Hey, Malfoy, do you know what the average temperature of that lake is?"

Draco paled. He did **not** like the look on her face.

"Well, not counting the unusual temperature high that spikes in the last few weeks of school, preceding summer, the most of our time spent here is spent when the lake is about 50, 40 Fahrenheit at best. I'd say that right now it's about 37-40. Phew, very cold, huh?"

"Cold? Nah…t-t-that's…n-nothing. So, you can g-g-go up t-to the c-cast-tle now…"

"Oh, no, I think I'll watch you. Besides, you'll need someone to fish you out when your hypothermia kicks in. Go along now, little fishy."

* * *

Hermione smirked, even though she clenched her teeth together in effort to keep them from chattering. It was unfortunate that this night would be the night of the first frost, and an unusual Fall temperature drop. 

Malfoy looked over at her. "Cold?" he asked, and she was surprised to hear a touch of concern in his voice. Strange…

"N-no. I'm fine."

"Oh, 'cause you can use my sweater while I'm in the lake. I won't be needing, obviously."

"What? Oh, no. No thank you. Um…I can just use a warming spell. Doesn't last long, but I can keep renewing it." she quickly dug into her pocket to hide her slowly creeping blush.

It's from the cold, she told herself. Digging out her wand, she quickly muttered "Calidus-nosis"

* * *

Draco shrugged, and turned around. "No peaking now." he called over his shoulder. 

"As if I would want to!" came a muffled reply from behind him. He grinned. Stripping down as fast as possible, he plucked up his courage and raced into the lake, submerging himself.

All Hermione heard was the cry of an animal in pain. Or a young man whose precious…um…body parts had been immersed in frigid lake water.

* * *

_Twenty long and cold minutes later…

* * *

_

Draco had grudgingly allowed Hermione to levitate him out of the water, and he had endured her blindly helping him dress. But he was not, **not** going to let her help him into the castle.

No! No way. Absolutely not! Sure, he had the tentacle, but he also had his pride. He was trying to work against her, for goodness sake! What would that do for his moral if he allowed her to help him stiffly walk back to the castle? Nothing good, I can tell you that.

But alas, Granger had other ideas.

"If you think, as Head Girl, I am going to let you walk to the castle yourself, when you can barely stop your teeth from chattering, Mister Blue Lips, then you have another thing coming.. Come along now, Head Boy my but. More like Little Boy Who Doesn't Know Stupid Potions Are For Stupid People!. Really, I don't know why I told you. What was I thinking? Can you believe, after all my years…"

It went on like that for some time, and when they finally made it back to the common room, he even allowed her to tuck him in on the couch and get him a bowl of Pepper-Up-Soup.

Humiliating, I know. And the replicate look of Madame Pompfrey on her face wasn't helping either. But when she finally allowed him to sleep by the roaring fire, and left him alone, he realized two things.

He felt really small and alone, and almost wished she would come back. And…

That the squid tentacle was still in his pants pocket.

"Granger!"

* * *

**Author's note:** So watcha think? Review, and you get warm, fresh crumpets and butter to top it off! 

Oh yes, and remember about my opinion poll at the top. Toodles!

Arrivederci, amici!


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Author's Note: **Sorry!!! Sorry for being late and delivering a short chapter and not being on time and all that jazz!!! Ahhh!! I burn with guilt!!!

Okay, enough of that. Alright. Isn't this were I thank all of my reviewers by naming them and giving a little message...errr. Just that I **want** to thank all you in person, but as I write this my fingers are tired and in feel I need to get it posted…so thank you all reviewers!!!!!

**Disclaimer: **"When lies are told, only the truth is self evident., though it may be hidden by shrouds of doubt and meaningless words." Old Confucius said that.

Okay, maybe not. Actually, I made it up. Pretty good for clueless kid like me, eh?

Anyway, I don't know how this goes along with the disclaimer. Maybe you can figure it out…or can you? Am I lying? Or telling the truth? Only you may know, young grasshopper.

* * *

_**Chapter Nineteen: **Where it is Apparently an Uhrg-ahh-damn-ugg-day, Things Are To Be Discovered About Ones Self, and Malfoy and Granger Both Do Some Well Needed Deciding; Sunday, wouldn't you know._

Draco grumbled as he wiped sweat off his forehead. He grumbled as he wiped his nose. He grumbled as pulled another sweater over himself. And he grumbled as he thought of how he was going to live down Grangers hospitality.

But most of all he grumbled as he wished for the seventeenth time this potion wasn't so bloody hard. "Seventeen clockwise…four times up and for three hours…oh yes, and don't forget the cinnamon…acchooo!!!...stupid lake…stupid cold…stupid tentacle…stupid Granger…stupid…urg…bloody…f-ing potion." He had gotten up at six, thinking he would make it, let it ferment for about three hours and then go down to Hogsmeade hoping that Hermione and that little red head would be there. Oh…but no. No, it wasn't that simple. No…it was now ten…and by golly he had missed breakfast as well…AND THE POTION WASN'T EVEN DONE YET!!!!

I think I should take up yogurt.

Or whatever that stupid muggle thing is.

* * *

Hermione groaned as she shielded her eyes from the glaring sun. She groaned as she pulled the marigold covers up to her chin. She groaned as she wiped sleep from her eyes and tried to tame her mess of a hair. And she groaned when she wondered how she was going to live down **helping** Malfoy out. 

But most of all she groaned as she realized that today Ginny was going to be taking her costume shopping…Hermione wondered how much it would hurt to jump out the window.

"I hate Sundays…" she complained to nobody in particular, seeing as how she was alone in her room. Yah. . "I hate October….blahh….blah to the stupid Hallow Committee. Blah Justin Finch Fletchly. Blah Malfoy. Blah…what time is it?" she looked over at the clock. Hmm…the little hand is here…the big hand goes…."ITS ten!!!!"

Hermione slapped a hand to her forehead; it seems that a sort of shock had over taken Head Girl; in being sleepy, one sleeps late; she had never done that before.

Gadzooks!

Hermione, in a fit of panic, jumped out of bed, grabbed some clean clothes from her drawer (gold corduroys, red "I'm A Winner!" tee, and black hooded sweatshirt with "Mighty Mighty Morgan le Fay Volleyball-in collaboration with MuggleWizard Relations" ), extra underthings, and ran toward the shower.

* * *

Draco, looking up, heard a shout of panic, a jumble of dresser drawers, and the bathroom door slam. "Maybe Granger got an ink stain on her robe, snigger she's trying to wash it off, snigger ." 

Because, please? Could Granger really be sleeping late?

* * *

Hermione took a hurried shower (yet clean and accurate), swiftly dressed, (yet immaculate and neat), and quickly brushed her teeth, (as precise and careful as can be.) 

When Hermione had finished her morning routine, ("well, it wouldn't **be** the morning routine if I hadn't slept **late!**", She ran out of her room and ran smack into the man who gives away a million dollars, and lived happily ever after.

No….not really.

She actually ran out of the door and ran smack into Malfoy, who was just coming out of his room.

"Oomph!" was the simultaneous response from both, as the two Heads careened to the floor.

* * *

F-ing Granger, Draco thought stormily. She should watch were she's going. Geez. 

He stood up. "I'd offer you a hand, Granger, but a Gentleman only helps the ladies." He smirked.

Granger, who at that time, unbeknownst to Draco, was at the end of her rope this morning, had just about had it.

"Shut your freaking mouth before I close it for you, Malfoy. You wouldn't known a lady if she danced the hoola on top of your dinner table in a shiny plastic ducky bikini." She got up rather huffily.

Draco smirked. So she could be riled up **after** all. "Just watch where you're going, Mudblood."

Hah! Lets just see how mad you get, that will get your attention.

Granger's mouth opened, and Draco smirked, ready for Granger to start swearing at him, ( and yelling, and the satisfaction of seeing her mad.)

And she did! She cussed like a sailor! Like a rabid, ornery, sea-dogged sailor!!!

Really! And then she did the hoola!

But of course, as you read this, you have begun to understand that I'm pulling your leg.

Because in fact all Granger did was yawn…rather loudly.

* * *

Hermione rubbed her eyes. He really is boring. Like a big fat piece of cake without any icing. Or sugar. Just a hunk of bread with…well, more bread. 

_So you mean Malfoy is a cutie, huh? Nice and sweet? A real cupcake? You even said he was a hunk! HA! You finally admitted it._

_What? Nooo!! I said he was a boring, un sugary cake! And I said he was a hunk of **bread**! Not a hunky guy! Puh-lease!!! Like that would ever come out of **my** mouth!_

_It just did, genius._

_Why thank you, I am._

_Didn't you hear me? I said you just said Draco Malfoy is a hunk!!_

_Whatever. Yawn…_

_Don't take that tone with me, girly. Just because you won't give Malfoy over here the time of day, (poor dear is wracking his brains out to find a way to get you to notice him) doesn't mean you can't respond to me teasing and remarks. Good day!  
_

_Wait! What did you say about Malfoy? What is he trying to do!! Get my attention? For what?_

_No, no, I've said to much. Besides, maybe you misheard me. I said he LOVED you, so you should just go and give him a big kiss._

… ...

_Go ahead, I'm waiting._

_Yeah, and I'm the queen._

_Fine, fine…_

_Fine!_

_Fine._

_Good!_

_Good-bye._

Hermione huffily turned back to Malfoy. "What were you saying? Whatever—I have to get to—to see Ron and Harry! Oh gods, oh gods! Get outta my—move! Geez…."

And with that she stomped out of the room.

* * *

Draco stood there for a couple minutes. He felt like he was on a giant circus wheel. Going 'round and 'round and 'round until he puked up a boring fight and no results and a sucky potion and humiliating circumstances. He never got to see Granger—she was always away—going this way and that way and running around—and he was stuck here or with Pansy or with Blaise or with some corny assignment or alone!! 

But what could he do about it? What could he really do? He was stuck between a rock, a hard place, Granger, and this whole damn world. Not to mention tiny pebbles of his father, the war, school…his whole reputation! The world wouldn't give him a break, couldn't maybe, wasn't going to any time soon, and he would just have to take it all in stride without losing face or sanity.

Life just isn't fair, he decided, but that's just the way it has to be.

"Sucks to that." Furthermore he got up, and without knowing exactly the bloody hell why, deciding to follow her.

* * *

Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had run down this passage way—maybe back in the day when she and Harry and Ron were skirting Filch and teachers and other students, always on a mission or a food splurge or some get away time—always dragging her behind as she struggled to catch up, and when she did, lecture them again and again until—and then they would laugh and giggle as they watched Filch behind a pillar, or as they bravely went through heroic missions, without so much as a care and a childish sense of importance and meaning; maturity and intelligence; bravery in their minds, themselves, and in their own little world. Believing that they knew best and the rest didn't. 

Safe.

Yes, safe, in their nestling cocoon of self righteousness. They could do whatever the hell they wanted. And not get in trouble.

Safety in numbers. In being one of three. Two for one. Any which way. Always knowing you had at least one person behind you to back you up in a fight or trouble; even when there was no threat except the looming trepidation of their classes, or life, or the youthful, in denial, immature, masses of the school; even in the panic of going day to day and not knowing how it was going to turn out.

Safety in lies. In pretending everything was okay. In thinking that a small white fib couldn't hurt anybody, as long as it was said quickly and quietly. How many times did they fool themselves? How many times did they say they saw it fair and square, when they only looked at a portion of the big picture?

Safety in truth. In knowing that Voldemort was back. In knowing that they were for the good side. In knowing Harry wasn't the Dark Heir to the Slytherin Throne. In knowing Sirius was alive. In knowing that Fudge and Scrimgiour were worthless. In knowing Harry didn't kill Cedric. In knowing Harry was telling the truth. In knowing what happened the night Dumbledore was killed. In knowing that there was a prophecy. And in knowing that they had each other, for a while.

In believing what they wanting. How you look back on your younger self, and see a childish kid, wonder how you got where you are, wonder how you survived, and think, "They are so out of it! They don't know what's going on! How can they! They are not in charge of anything! They seem to be hovering, that small brink, that small thin line, between reality and meaning. Between being just barely physically and mentally there, and gone."

And then you come up against a brick wall, and have to face facts.

We were brats, but we were honest, emotional, doing the best we can brats.

And, Hermione decided, that's good enough for me.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'm sorry it's so short. Take it all is stride, remember. Anyway, have a good night/day and be safe on the internet! Review for a snicker-doodle. 

Ciao bellas.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Author's Note:** Hurrah! Hurrah! I've made it to the twentieth chapter! This calls for a celebration!! I want twenty reviews for this chapter. TWENTY!!! CAN YOU DO IT!! YES YOU CAN!!

The bottom author's note will dictate what you get for reviewing. Because I am so special. And because I am nice.

Errmm…thanks for reviewing all of you. I got some really nice notes, and some confusing ones.

**Black roses of death: **Hermione thinks too much? Au contraire, my dear reader. Thinking is what Hermione **does**. There is no possible way for her to think **too much**. As far as I am concerned, when she over thinks, she is in her best. But I'm certain that was a sarcastic comment. Oh, I do adore sarcasm. It just makes me…happy. Really, it does. You don't like snicker doodles…umm…well, I have run out of pastries and stuff. Maybe I'll do a repeat.

**Sam's Firefly**: Yes, yes, Draco's rather dense, isn't he?

**Your Mom Is My Heart: **Yeah!! I updated. I'm rawther proud of me-self, I do say.

**Striped Candycane: **one of my favorite reviews. (I said _one of_!! No need to get all kitty-cat claws on each other!!) Hah! I kid myself. Actually, I am not quite sure how I **did** make that happen. Maybe its just one of my pops collar brilliant writing techniques. It comes naturally…(the collar popping, I mean.)

**Gwinna**: Uh, yeah!?!?!?! Really, with such a great story out there, you should know to review!! OMG! Like, if I don't spell it out for you or what?? Hah! I kid you. I don't really mean it. I'm actually surprised when people update. Heck. I don't even read what I write. (A very talented trick, I must tell you. Family secret. No, sshhhh…go away. I'm not telling you.)

**Karma-k2**: Yeasshhh!!! Bow before me, mortal!. Hah! Sadistic. Really, like I'm sadistic. (Oh, and just for that comment, I'm not updating anymore…)

That was sarcasm. Or sadism. I can't really tell. You know, they really are similar. They both kind of go with my cynical, snarky, teenager vibe. Heck, I can't help it if I'm cool.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter, Never have, never will. No matter how hard I wish. (You know, that blowing the seeds off the dandelion trick does not work. Neither does birthday candles, four leaf clovers, holding your breath under tunnels, crossing your fingers, rabbits feet, or throwing salt over your shoulder.)

Hah! Okay, that last one was a dud. I only did because a mutant snail was following me.

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty:** Where Hermione Is Lonesome, Strictly Speaking, Draco Does Some Sneaking, and Ginny is Fashionably Critiquing: Go Sunday Shopping or Go Streaking. Hey, that rhymes!_

Hermione trotted along the halls, absentmindedly quickening her pace when she heard the far-off cry of happy students. Panting slightly, she arrived at the Portrait of the Fat Lady. In a last minute rush of adrenalin, and in the rising nausea and panic that was slowly creeping up her throat, her chest, and into her lungs, she quickly said the password and bolted into the Common Room.

A second's glance was enough to tell her that Ron and Harry were not in the room. She ran up the Boy's Dormitory Stairs, ignoring weak and fearful protests of male students as she ran through the hall and pushed into their dormitory.

And they were not there.

And without having to think, without having to reason, or without having to say, "Yeah, well, you know…they could be outside, in the Great Hall…maybe down by the lake?" But she didn't need to venture into those feeble attempts of saving face. Harry and Ron had already left.

"I **can't **believe I slept late!" she said angrily, flinging her self down on Harry's bed. She pushed hair out of her eyes and off her forehead. She lay for a couple minutes—it seemed like forever—as she let her mind wander to other things.

_I should have visited them more. I should have talked to them, let them in on my life. Now it will be nothing but secrets. I should have come down here more—made plans with them. They could have helped me with Halloween Plans…but now…_

She sat up. _When was the last time I saw them? Last night, right. Before I helped Malfoy…ew. _

She tapped a finger to her head. _What did I ask them for? Head Duties…something about an exploding toilet…_

And then it hit her. Like a steam train on a clown car. "The map!" she covered her eyes. "Oh Harry, Harry. What if you had needed it?" she shook her head. "What if you needed to check up on the castle? Why, why? Now I have it…I have Harry's most prized possession. And they couldn't get it…why, I haven't told them the password. It's all because I slept late." She started to sniff. "It's my entire fault. They'll…they'll probably fail now."

Still sniffing, she scratched her backside, as a sharp thing was currently digging into her. Her hand brushed up against something smooth.

Hermione twisted around, searching through the now wrinkled bed sheets. At last she found it—a rolled up piece of parchment—and she opened it, curiosity getting the better of her.

"It's okay Hermione—keep it. You'll need it. _Well, her Head Badge could come in handy, though, Harry. She doesn't really need-_

Especially with Malfoy around. _You keep an eye on him! If he even **thinks** about hurting you, I'll…_

Yeah, well, Ron was crumpling the paper, as you can see, so, we'll just say our closings.

Good luck—with the school year, studies, Malfoy, and our little friend Tom.

-Much Love,

Harry. _And Ron!"_

She smiled as she read it, and her worries began to evaporate. "Like a simple map could spell out their end. Really, Hermione, you must be PMSing. Hah! I should have known better. Harry would have worked every thing out…just like him."

She fondly folded the note and stuck it in her pocket, lovingly scratching the part of the parchment were Ron had began to stab as he wrote about Malfoy—Malfoy! She groaned. She would have to go through a **whole** year with him—without Harry and Ron, **and** researching "our little friend, Tom", **and** planning parties for Halloween and Christmas, **and**…Ginny was taking her shopping today.

Thoroughly annoyed again, she pursed her lips and headed down to the Great Hall.

* * *

Draco smiled as he watched her go inside. "Going to see her ickle Ronnikens, yes?" he sniggered. Let's see if she can give me a hint as to where she is going today. 

And he waited.

And waited.

**And** waited.

Finally, fed up and hungry and tired, he turned around to leave—when the portrait opened. At once anxious and wild eyed, searching for a place to hide, he darted behind a suit of armor.

He watched as she walked down the stairs and out of sight. Smirking at her naiveté, he followed her quietly and swiftly. He shadowed her as she rounded corners and staircases, and walked through various halls, and through multiple doors. No doubt she was heading to the Main Hall, but you could never tell. After all, **he** had never tried to find his way from the Griffindork common room down to dinner.

Frustrated at the lack of information, Draco began to daydream. What would she see him as? A picture of a ferret came to mind at once and he pushed it away. "A handsome dragon maybe? Too terrified to attack, the maiden shrinks from confrontation. Yes, the dirty Mudblood maiden doesn't attack for **fear**, not boredom, of his reaction. Or maybe I'm a lion—no, no, too Griffindork-ish. A cobra? An eagle—swift, fast, and deadly. A tiger. A fast stallion. A powerful coursing river. An elegant peacock?"

He stopped at the last suggestion his mind had reeled out, maybe because it held most sway with his mind. "I'm not a peacock. I'm not vain, really. Just…concerned with my image."

Maybe too over-concerned, Draco dear. After all, you spend an average of two hours in front of a mirror a day. And you take **the** **longest** showers. And you comb you hair to bed-headed, wavy, messed up perfection. All in all you act like a spoiled blonde ditz-head with plenty of daddy's money on hand.

Err, wait. Maybe that was a bad simile.

Well, so much for the Stereotype Revolution.

* * *

Hermione huffed as she walked through to the Main Hall, or entrance. Spying Ginny, she walked over, hunched as she pushed her hands farther into her sweatshirt pocket. 

"And where were **you**." demanded Ginny as she put her hands on her hips. "I was **waiting**, you know."

"Sorry Gin. I slept late." She gave her friend a smile, hoping to draw her off.

"Oh. Well, I can't argue with that. I mean, you **did** need it. So…have you?...I mean, did you say good-bye?"

It took Hermione a couple seconds to figure out what she was saying. "Oh…no, they left. I, well, you know…slept late." Hermione decided not to tell her about the map. After all, it was a long story, and she was unsure what trouble rambunctious Ginny could get into if she had the blueprints and whereabouts of the school.

Ginny sighed as she took Hermione's arm. "I'll miss them." She looked languidly about and steered Hermione toward the door.

Hermione smirked. Yeah. She knew what Ginny meant by "them." As they stepped out into the bright, crisp sunlight, she said "And I suppose with 'them' gone, you'll have no one to go to dances with. What a pity."

Ginny grinned. "I may be dancing with a cute boy, but you know who I'll be thinking of. Besides, a girl's gotta have a little fun."

"Your right. I'm sure Harry doesn't have to know you are flirting with half the school…"

"Hermione!!" Ginny looked at her astonished. "Harmless flirting! Hello! It's not the same as being in love. I just need…someone to go around with while my true love is off fighting valiantly."

Hermione sighed. "Yes, well, at least you have someone."

She received a smack in the arm. "The only reason you don't have a boyfriend is because you work too much, you scare them with your superior status, and you wear clothes like **this**," she said, emphasizing with a pinch of Hermione sweatshirt. "If you just wore clothes like **me**," and she swept a hand down in front of her, "you would have **many**, many boys falling for you. I mean, you're gorgeous. Really. And you already have Fletchly head over heels, not to mention Malfoy, and Ron, and—"

At that point Hermione clamped a hand over her mouth. "I get it." she didn't feel the need to remind Ginny that Malfoy was her one true nemesis, and therefore would **never** **ever, ever,** be on her list of Most Wanted. Hehe. Get it? Most Wanted? Err, never mind.

Ginny just rolled her eyes and continued, after successfully prying her dear friend's hands off. "And you know, I could—hmmm, if you'd like…well, you might not want to—but I'd love to! If its okay…no, no, I'll just bully you into it, and…"

"Ginevra Weasley, **what** are you going on about?"

"I want to give you a makeover!"

Hermione looked at her.

With that special stare one reserves for idiots.

And looked at her, an exaggerated expression of "You come one step closer with that idea and your pretty braids are being lopped of." on her face. Or the look that clearly says "I'll kill you if you even think of coming near me with mascara." written across her curly head.

"Oohh…come on. Please? Not even a _leet-le_ hair cut? A change of clothes? I promise I won't go to far…you can keep the curls!!! I'm thinking ringlets…and a small amount of eye shadow! Eyeliner! I'll get you a soft powder black, a dark brown, a gold, and maybe a light brown…hmm…do you wear any blue?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. This could go on forever. "I'll think about it, Ginny," she said, hoping to shut her up.

It didn't work.

Nope.

She actually got worse.

"…oh, oh! I'm thinking boho chic! Something hip…gold is your color, I think. Hmm, I know! A deep red…a blue? Something that says, 'I read, but I am also drop-dead-gorgeous.' Something antique. That thrift shop I like? Maybe. It has some great stuff, and shoes. Oh, shoes! No more clacky Mary-Janes..(except with the appropriate skirt.) No more sneakers. Except for jogging. Stay in shape. That the ticket. Ummm….high heels???…nah. You need something smooth, sexy. Ballet shoes! Cute ones! With bows! Or Achilles Sandals…I saw them in Witches Vogue. Prada had a grand opening just for them... You know Dolce and Gabbana are having a sale today down on Smithtons Street…you just take a left on Druey Avenue when you get to Honeydukes. You know, I saw this great color shoe, it was all orange and it was called a ...ked? hmm…so I was thinking for a winter wardrobe…"

Hermione sighed deeply as she and Ginny wound their way down the path as Hogsmeade came into sight. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

**Author Note: **I find it funny that Ginny knows all this muggle fashion stuff as well, but then again, if she were here, she would say, "Fashion is fashion, ya yanky idiot." 

By the way, I am hoping you don't think this is another Hermione-gets-a-makeover-story. I hope Hermione's reaction to it gave you a hint she won't be turning herself into a Ginny/Lavender/Paravti/Pansy look-a-like. Though I'm toying with the idea of a slight change in Hermione—maybe Ginny picks her out some cool clothes. And not cool as in what most people think, but something along the lines of bohemian, and maybe a bit prep, yet still sleek and chic. And that could bring out, not only a self-esteem change in Hermione, but a change in Malfoys attitude too…_wiggles eyebrows..._

Well, tell me what you think, review, **I want twenty**, and all faithful reviewers get a handful of mini marzipan fruits. (Grape, banana, oooh a little pineapple…aaawwww….)

Yeah, okay.

Ciao bellas.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Author's note**: Hmmm…I meant to have this story be in tune with the real world...but...Holidays over, and they haven't even had Halloween yet? Uhoh. Either I'll have to type reeeeaaallly fast, or just update when I can.

**Disclaimer**: I love it when you think I actually own Harry Potter.

It makes me feel important.

* * *

**Dedication: **I would like to dedicate this chapter to my reviewers. Why? Because, frankly, I have read the reviews for other's story's, though mostly for other genres and books, but even in the Harry Potter category, people can be down right NASTY! I mean, are they having a bad day? I've read some reviews for other's stories, and I'm saying to myself "Well someone's bitchy!" I don't mean to be rude (though I usually do) but they are! I can't imagine why you would want to cut someone down like that. 

Though for the most part, I find the Harry Potter people rather supportive. You lot rarely argue or shame, and mostly your reviews are filled with suggestions and comments, and lost of lurv.

It's beautiful.

So really, I truly want to dedicate this to you. I have yet to get a flame, and I have yet to be hurt by your reviews. I only find support and admiration, and even "elderly" advice when I open my emails. Never have I felt alone or unsupported or unloved. It takes two to tango, and it takes two to write a story on On person is the writer. The others are the reviewers. Without you, this story probably wouldn't exist. It would be lying at the bottom of my trash can.

So thanks, Happy Holidays, and hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One**_ Ginny Completes a New Record, Someone's Rather Broke, _

_and It's Not Love Yet; This Story May Now Drink._

The light shifted, dancing twirls of color in the air as it sparkled brilliantly through the stain glass window currently occupying the space across from him. He frowned and shot a warning glare toward the window, which in return continued to sparkle and shoot beams of sunlight right into his perfect face.

"Bloody window." Draco Malfoy grumbled, as he turned back to his prey. There, across the hall, stood one Hermione Granger and her companion, Ginny Weasly, chatting about something.

"Like **I** care." He whispered. Which was a complete lie. The reason he was even here, crouching uncomfortably behind a stone pillar with it's pointy edges sticking into his…ahem…lower region, respectably painfully, was because he wanted to figure out where Bookworm and Weaselette were heading off to today.

"I mean, how else am I supposed to find out where I should administer the potion? Merlin, is the world against me?" he sniffed "Just because I'm beautiful."

Yeah, we'll keep you posted Draco.

"This really is ridiculous. I shouldn't have to stoop to such low measures just to…Heh! Wait! They're leaving!" Draco jumped out from behind the pillar, stubbed his toe, stepped on his shoelace, and fell down flat on his face, just in time to hear the words "Hogsmeade might be crowded," coming from Grangers beautiful…err, Mudlood-ly lips.

And as awkwardly and clumsily a teenage boy can, Draco stumbled back to his room to gather up his potion, which was now excitably ready.

He laughed.

Manically.

"I just wish Blaise and Pansy could be here to see this!" he wiped a fake tear from his eye. "But, of course, they would err…completely disregard its scientific and sadistic properties and laugh at me."

More like think it's silly. But, then again, if he thought that, we wouldn't have a plot, now would we?

* * *

Hermione glanced up and down the street, bored, as her friend dragged her into the nearest store, labeled "Madame Moxines Mad Fashions" 

"Ooh, it's chilly outside. Come, come, in side now, Hermione. Gosh, it's gotten cold. Halloween's almost here, as well. By the way, that reminds me. We need to get you some fashionable scarves." Ginny rambled on, drawing nods of approval from busy salesclerks and looks of pity aimed at Hermione from the unfortunate boyfriends accompanying their girlfriends.

Hermione rolled her eyes and took a seat near the door. Ginny, on the other hand, was far from lax. She single handedly emptied half the racks of clothes, throwing finishing touches of winter-outerwear and trendy little purses, to the top of a pile of clothes. She stood back and grinned.

The store clerks gaped and checked their watches.

Five minutes.

"Well!" said Ginny cheerfully. "Now that we have **that** sorted out, I want you to try on this."

Hermione blanked. She looked at Ginny, wondering if she was going funny. "Uh…Ginny? What clothes? You nearly cleaned out the store. All that's left are things even **Ron** wouldn't wear. What am I supposed to try on?"

Ginny smacked a hand to her forehead.

Painfully.

"Hermione. Listen. See that heap of fashion behind me?" She nodded. "You're trying **that** on."

A giggle.

A soft giggle, reminiscent of a child's first taste of a sugary caffeine soda, was all that the store heard for a moment.

Ginny went to open her mouth, to ask if everything was all right.

But another giggle came, and then another, until Hermione as holding her stomach and grinning madly. "You want me to try all that on?" she asked wildly, throwing her hand toward the pile of clothes.

"Uh…ye-ah?"

And then, like a comedian arriving at the punch line, Hermione responded in a soft giggly voice, "All at once?"

The simple act of saying these three words, had sent Hermione into an even wilder state of hysterics, and she laughed till she cried.

The store employees, on the other hand, shuffled warily out of the room.

And Ginny?

She smacked a hand to her forever once again.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

Dear Draco, on the other hand, was steadily making his way towards Hogsmeade. 

And while he walked, he sang a little ditty to keep him company.

How charming.

Here's how it goes:

"_On the first day of Christmas, my nemesis was given by me,_

_A mind-seeing potion on a shopping spree._

_On the second day of Christmas, my nemesis was given by me, _

_Two poison darts,_

_And a mind-seeing potion on a shopping spree!_

_On the third day of Christmas, my nemesis was given by me, _

_Three back-stabs,_

_Two poison darts,_

_And a mind seeing potion on a shopping spree!_

_On the fourth day of Christmas, my nemesis was given by me,_

_Four stinging remarks,_

_Three backstabs,_

_Two poison darts,_

_And a mind-seeing potion on a shopping spree!_

_On the fifth day of Christmas, my nemesis was given by me, _

_Five House Cup losses!_

_Four stinging remarks,_

_Three backstabs,_

_Two poison darts, _

_And a mind seeing potion on a shopping spree!_

See? I told you. Charming, huh?

(Though we won't go into the fact that it won't be Christmas for a while.)

* * *

Hermione buckled under the weight of her shopping bags. 

Hermione Granger, Bookworm Extraordinaire, currently was carrying twenty bags, from all the major labels currently stationed at Hogsmeade. Oh, and plus her Halloween Costume.

Yes, the good ol' Halloween torture suit--I mean...ahah..._costume._

Hermione had finally thought she was done, hoping that Ginny would stop for a snack at Mr. Nick's Snack Snickery, then walk back up to the castle. No such luck.

Ginny, upon seeing the Magical Marvelous Costume Emporium, had dragged Hermione inside.

"Ginny!" she had whined, when seeing that her hand **could not **be wrenched from Ginny's tight hold, "Do we really? Can't we go home? I'm tiiiirreeddd… hummmpphh." But Ginny said nothing, except look back at her captive—I mean companion, and grin.

And so it began. Ginny browsed the shelves. "This one?" she would sometimes ask, and sometimes only she herself would answer. "Too ugly." Or "Too froufrou…red…clown-like…trampy…vampy…slutty…whorish…ewww….disgusting…what is this made for, Playwiz or something?…complete hussy!'

Hmm…we seem to have a trend costumes for girls nowadays.

But, eventually, and to Hermione's utter disappointment, they found one.

"Ooohh!" Ginny had squealed, "This one!" she had grabbed it and held it up to Hermione.

"I don't know, Ginny."

"Oh, come one!'

"No, no. I don't think…do you think I could pull it off? It's just not…it's so…I reeealllly don't see myself in that, Gin! Why not stick to the giant-book costume there in the back…it suits me better."

"No, no, I like this one."

And that was the end of it. Ginny would not take no, and marched up to the counter, amid mutters of "I like that book-costume, Gin" coming from Hermione.

Hermione, after a moment's consideration, finally realized that Ginny hadn't picked one out. "Ginny, where's yours?" _Ahah! I kenw it! She wasn't going because she missed Harry too much! Mwhahaha! Now, she won't know I didn't go because she wont be there! It's perfect! Brilliant! Genius! I—_

"Oh, don't worry. I have one" and then she had marched her right back out of the store again.

And Hermione whimpered. Sadly.

Oh, how long suffering she is, don't you think?

Yet there was one more detail on the back of her mind. What was it again? Oh, yeah…

Hermione was now broke.

"Ginny…do you think…? I mean, could we return…these? They're kinda heavy and …oomph!...I need money for more books, so if you could just…"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Here, let me take them." And deftly, she swooped up fifteen of them. Hermione gaped. Ginny smirked.

And flexed.

My, what a girl.

"Anyway, Ginny, um (well I didn't know you had such muscles, but that not the point) I'm guessing the makeover is over?" she asked hopefully. After all, they had only shopped for clothes and make-up and hair-products, she hadn't actually had anything **done**.

And she was hoping it would stay that way.

"What? You think we're done? Honey, we haven't even started! I have to **apply** all this to you! We have your hair to perfect…your eyes, lips, clothes. Gosh, I have to set up an outfit schedule for you. Once you get the hang of it, you can decide from there. Now, let's head back. I have some magazine clippings I want to hang up in your room. They'll help to remind you to…"

Well, you get the idea.

Hermione was in for one long ride.

And it was still only three.

* * *

Draco, one the other hand, was merrily—I mean manly, walking down the path towards Hogsmeade. His thoughts, though usually somewhat coherent, now ran through his head aimlessly. Kind of like this: 

_Man, I hope I see her._

_Because I want to administer the potion._

_Right._

_Administer. Wow, that's a big word._

_Where did I earn it?_

_Oh, yeah, Granger said it the other day in Advanced Potions._

_She's so smart. I mean, uuhhh bookwormy! Yeah, what a nerd._

…

_I bet she would know the root of it._

_Root? Is that it? Or is it origin? She would probably know the original language. Sounds Latin to me, but I dunno. The definition, and the…_

_What was I talking about again?_

_Oh, yeah, Hermione._

_I mean Granger…_

_Granger, what a funny last name. Reminds me of a cat._

_Hey, Granger has a cat! Isn't that funny?_

…

_I can't believe I expected someone to answer that._

_I should stop thinking._

_But would that be bad?_

_Granger doesn't think you can think to much and I—heh? Who is that?_

At that point, walking up the road from them, came one Hermione Granger, and Weaselette.

Draco gulped. He felt his palms get sweaty.

_Oh no! what if she sees me!_

_Wait, is that bad?_

_How's my hair?_

_Why am I stressing?_

_I just have to gulp down this potion thingy and be on my way-- _

_Oh Merlin, she's looking at me!_

Draco, eyes wide with unknown fear, quickly grabbed the potion out of his pocket.

Ten feet to go.

He gasped as the top **would** **not** come off.

Seven feet.

She was looking at him now. Looking. His fingers trembled.

Why was she looking at him funny? Was his badge askew? His hair messed up? Did he not look perfect?

_What was wrong with the confounded girl? Why was she staring at me and—Oh Merlin, here she comes._

Five feet.

Draco's mouth felt dry, his eyes wide. Sweat began to form on his hairline, then a tiny drop slowly dripped down the side of his head. His hands, feeling weak and clammy, tried to grasp the potion bottle.

She was three feet from him now.

Two feet.

And she, still staring at him, slowly walking by.

It seemed as though time stood still.

He could see every footstep she made and every cloud of dust puffing out from underneath their feet.. He saw the robes swish around her legs, and she passed him. His breath caught in his throat, and as Granger's confused look, writ all over her face, slowly passed his to turn back, a new emotion washed over him.

If I'm not mistaken, Draco Malfoy was now experiencing what pop-culture refers to as a high. Ecstatic. Euphoric. In raptures. **Blissfully unhappy**. And he had never felt that before. His breath still did not come, and his head felt miles high, and weightless, and he, Draco Honestus Malfoy, Head Boy of Hogwarts, and Prestigious Pompous Prick of the year, **did** **not like it one bit.**

And as his object of fascination walked away from him, his fumbling, unconscious fingers opened the bottle, and as the world seemed to speed up, he threw back his head and drank the labor of his mania.

As quickly as it sped up, it sped down again, to a drug-induced world of paraphernalia. His stopped mind, now driven by the effects of the mind potion, targeted in on the retreating back of Hermione Granger, and as the liquid remedy fixed on her, his mind blacked out for a second, and he was hurtled back. A screen, if it could be called that, though his muggle-disliking mind did not, sprang up on his vision. And at once he saw himself on the screen, holding the bottle stupidly.

He reached forward, and as his fingers touched, they were sucked in along with the rest of him. He found himself flying through space, hands stretched forth to the mini portrait of him, and suddenly he was there, in his body once again.

The bottle slipped, (or jumped of its own accord) out of his hands and smashed onto the cobblestones. The sound of the breaking glass was like a thousand chandeliers blowing in the wind, a million bell chimes whipping past your ears, the splashing of tiny water a hundred-fold.

As the glass shattered, as its pieces flayed out to fly through the air, tearing and racing around his feet, and fine mist sprang up. It's almost subtle body soon turned opaque, and before him was a swirling cloud of gas, like the smoke from a genie bottle.

He almost considered requesting three wishes.

Yet as he held back his tongue, slowly an image began to appear in the smoke. It writhed around a figure of him, buzzing and twirling.

He looked.

He squinted.

And then he fainted.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Oh it seems I have discovered the joy and sadistic glee of cliffhangers. 

Review and give me your illustrious opinions, comrades.

Molten Chocolate Babycakes, anyone?

(Oh, I'm sorry, that's only for reviewers, yah? Get my meaning? p )

Ciao, my lovelies.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Author's notes: **Ehmahgod I'm so sorry I haven't updated in forever!!!! I've just been busy with sports and homework and writers block and all sorts of time wasters…but here, I have a chapter, and if in the least a sucky, short, inadequate chapter, I did write one.

**Disclaimer: **No, I am not sane, no I am not rich, no I am not brilliant, and no I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty-Two: **__In Which You Might Say the "Mudblood's" Swamped in Fainting Malfoys, of All Things; We See the Merits Of Watching Where You're Going; and Draco Has Some Big Plans: I Don't Think We'll Make it to November._

When Draco woke up, the first thing he realized was that he was suspiciously comfortable. His foggy brain registered that he was facing a window. Make that lying on a four poster bed facing a window. Who's window?

Then he realized his head was cushioned by a multitude of down pillows. "But I only have three…" his foggy brain told his head. "And my green duvet has another design on it…"

And then he realized he was in his own room. He was confused. "How did I get up here? Last time I remember I was down the path to Hogsmeade."

Oh.

Oh Yeah.

"You fainted," came a soft voice. Make that a soft voice layered with a touch of smug. Hermione Granger entered the room. Draco glared at her.

"What did you say?" Imagine. Me? Fainting? Ppsshh.

"I said you fainted." She came to sit on the edge of his bed, slight smirk on her pretty features. _Pretty features? Where did that come from?_

"Impossible. Malfoy's don't faint."

"Well, something happened down at Hogsmeade. One second you were smirking at me from the side of the road, and the next you were on the ground, smashed glass at your feet. "

And Draco felt a scowl come onto his face. He looked down at his hands and pursed his lips. Oh yeah. That's why he fainted. Because I saw what she thought of me.

"You know its okay to faint. I've done it too." Her face, he realized, was unguarded and gentle.

He looked up, ashamed she saw him get upset. "Yeah, cus' you're a dirty blood worm."

He got a moment of joy when he saw her recoil, getting of the bed and a certain hardness coming over her face. "What ever Ferret. I have Homework." She walked out of the room, saying over her shoulder, "We have school tomorrow."

When she left, Draco slumped down in his bed, and poked out his bottom lip. "It's not FAIR!" he whined….Do you want to know what she saw him as?

She saw him as a ….flea!! A hairy, annoying, disgusting, fly-on-the-wall (so to speak) FLEA!

Bet none of you saw **that** coming….

"It's not fair!!!! I try my hardest to be a wonderful bully…the best…the one and only…and how are six years of practice wasted?!?!?! When I lose my edge…my charm…my way with words…OH I'M HOPELESSS LIKE A SPLIT BANNANA!!!!!"

This, uhh, lasted for another hour or so. I decided to spare you lot. It hurt me to even witness it. (It sometimes is AWEFUL work to be the narrator…you witness all the needy, obsessive, whiny, emotional moments of your characters…)

Sigh. I think I'll go off somewhere and pout.

* * *

Hermione shook her head, wondering where in the world she would find the time to make sure Ginny didn't come after her with an axe because she wasn't following her "Make Over Plan" Meanwhile, she didn't know if she had the time to finish her own "Escape Ginny's Makeover Plan Plan"

"And blimey, it's October 1st , with Malfoys fainting all over the place, how will I plan a Halloween party? I'm not even going!!"

Imagine that.

No, not a Halloween ball!

Malfoys fainting all over the place.

See? Narcissa ish in dat corner.

It's MADNESSS!!!!!!!

* * *

Justin Finch-Fletchley walked the halls, pondering life's little pleasures.

For instance—hey, wait! Why are you giggling!! Hey, get you're mind out of the gutter, you little nasties! Harumph.

Anyway, for instance, the fact that he was the president of the Halloween Committee. Truly a great honor.

He had also received a notice from his mother the other day. Great Aunt Ethel Smothers died last week. Finally. At the age of 137. "Geez..." he thought, reading the letter "I wonder if great Uncle Alderic had something to do with this…I mean the woman had the immune system of a dragon and a face like a Dwickle…"

What ever a Dwickle is.

To top it all off, his one and only, the brightest, the smartest, the prettiest, the most alluring, the most attractive, the most fascinating, enthralling, charming, captivating, appealing, interesting, and tempting girl in the entire school….sigh….was going to work with him.

Yes, Justin Finch-Fletchley was in LOVE.

Unfortunately, it was also a bad thing he was in love with Hermione Granger. "I'll have SOOOOO much completion for her hand…" he muttered to himself. "Why, just look at Malfoy!!! You can tell he likes her…there is so much emotion and passion and strong feelings in his face when he looks at her….Oh Hermione, how can one curly haired Hufflepuff vie against one popular, blonde, gray eyed, athletic Slytherin scoundrel for you, my shimery-bronze curly haired goddess!"

The problem with daydreaming is you tend to walk into stuff…which was exactly what Justin did. In fact, the house elves still haven't figured out how he put such a large dent in the portrait of Mugferd Fred Mudfred, the only wizard to ever successfully drink fifty Fizzy Fizz Fizzle Pop Colas while riding a Wartle Dragon.

Of course, no one said anything about him holding it down afterward…ewwww….

Anyway, just like Mudferd's Portrait, Justin seems to have a rather large dent in his brain. Only one too captivated by love would mix up loving emotions with annoyed emotions, loving passion with "I really wish I could hex you off the planet" passion, and **good** strong feelings with **strong** feelings.

Yes, Draco has strong feelings for Hermione.

No one ever said they were good.

* * *

Draco lay in bed for a while, thinking.

"How will I get her to hate me again?"

He pondered these small questions, mentally making a list. Actually, after he forgot what he was thinking, he got up and took out a pad and a quill.

He licked the tip, hand poised above the paper. "Ahem…Ten Plans to Make Hermione Granger (aka Mudblood) Hate Me, Draco Malfoy, Again."

An afterthought later, he put a star next to "Again." and wrote a small foot note at the bottom of the page; "plans make exceed ten if all said plans do not work or backfire."

He hummed to himself, and began to write.

* * *

**Ten Plans to Make Hermione Granger (aka Mudblood) Hate Me, Draco Malfoy, Again **

**1.** Walk around in boxers, and make the suggestive sexual-innuendo-ish comments that are the basis for male conversation, to Granger.

**2. **Invite Pansy over for some snog-time.

**3. **Borrow her books…without asking!!!! Ooooo this is evil.

**4. **Write things like "You suck!" "Shut up Mudblood" "Hey want to go on a date…not!" on a piece of paper, and turn it into a paper ball/airplane and send it toward her during class.

**5. **Visits her in the library. Sit next to her, read over her shoulder, munch loudly in her ear, snicker while she's writing notes, poke her, say over and over "I'm, not touching you!" and "I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves…"

**6. **Play loud music that you know she doesn't like on your WarlockRadio.

**7. **Sit in her favorite chair in the head Common Room.

**8. **Beat her to the bathroom in the morning.

**9. **Knock into her in the hallways.

**10. **Walk in on her while she's taking a shower. Thankfully, the curtains are not sheer, but it will give her heart palpitations and make her yell at me again. Also, what teenage boy **hasn't** done that?

**Plans make exceed ten if said plans do not work or backfire

* * *

**

"Oh, this is going to be fun!!" grinned Draco.

And then he took a nap.

After all, fainting takes a lot out of a guy.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Review, review, that's all I can say. That way you may boost my spirits and I will have the 23rd chappie out before you know it.

Anyone who reviews get a big shiny foil star sticker, and huge virtual hug, and a plateful of s'mores.

Anyone who reads, and doesn't review, I'll leave it up to my groupies to decide you're fate.

(Hahaha, groupies…since when have I had groupies?)

Toodles my lovelies.


	23. Chapter TwentyThree

**Author's Note: **Wow! I've never updated so fast in my life! Okay, well, I hope this is funny. Or at least moderately entertaining…

Alright, one question before I go:

_What exactly does a beta do? And how do you get your work to them so they can proofread or something?_

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the rights to Harry Potter, but I do own the rights to my "How To Own The Harry Potter Franchise" Plan...

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty-Three: **__Ooo Do You Feel A Draft?; We Decide Upon The Matter of The Day, Namely Different Green Apparel; _

_and We See The Merits of Earplugs: Shades of Orange_

The day dawned bright and sunny, full of vigor and life and meaning. The sun chased away the shadows of the night, surrounded by countless—

"Oh Merlin dammit!"

Hermione stumbled backward, fell right on her rump, and succeeded in bumping her head on her bedroom door—the one behind her which she had so previously closed.

"Malfoy you idiot, why the hell would anyone stand right in front of a body—who is obviously still half-asleep-- when they are coming out of their room first thing in the morning? I mean really, you can be so—" She looked up, and from the deep red slowly coming over her cheeks, I daresay she immediately regretted it. Hermione covered her eyes with her hand and sighed wearily.

"Malfoy, am I still asleep?"

"Wah? Uh, no," he grinned. Or, at least, you and I know he grinned. Hermione still had her hand over her face.

"Oh. Bloody hell, then that is **really** you standing in front of my door in just your boxers?"

"Yes Granger. I know. Aren't I like a dream? You could just… **eat** me up."

"Ah, no. See, I was thinking more along the lines of a **nightmare**. What ever the bloody case, if pinching myself does not make you and your pointy white ferrety head disappear from my line of vision, then that means you really have the nerve to stand almost-naked in front of me. So try to understand this—I DON'T LIKE IT AT ALL!"

With that, she pushed herself off the floor, and still obscuring her vision, roughly pushed past his six-foot frame and huffily stalked into the bathroom. The door closed with a "whamm" and an odd grumble sounding something like "dumb…ferrets…"

* * *

Draco grinned. _Well, she certainly wasn't happy this morning. _He whistled as walked back into his room. Draco took out his robes and school uniform, and picking out the two prospective ties for the tie, surveyed them in front of his mirror. 

"What do you say, mirror? Spring green with a touch of silver, the dark green with that lovely diamond pattern Pansy is so fond of, or wait…should I get out my new silver and lime umbrella-stripe? You know how those colors really set off my gorgeous eyes and impeccable hair."

The mirror, which had been, up to that time, asleep, woke with a start. She smiled prettily at her favorite little student. "Darling…" she drawled, "I simply love how you ask my opinion. Of course I will give it to you," she paused dramatically. "Seeing as how it's a Monday—and I know you hate Mondays, poopsie, you should wear that lime green and silver stripe…it's so gorgeous on you and sure to start your day off right."

"Why mirror, I **do** believe your right." Smirking in self-righteous smug egotism, he pulled the tie around his neck and quickly tied it. "So…do I go for the buttone- to-the-top shirt and tight-tie look, or my equally impressive top-two-buttons undone and the tie-loosened effect?"

"It's Monday...who can expect an Adonis like you to get up perfect each morning?…go for the bed head look…It'll catch her attention, I'm **sure** of it."

Grinning, Draco loosened his tie and flicked his short blond hair so it settled messily over his forehead, fringing his eyebrows and lashes. "Perfect," he smirked, "Yes mirror, I do believe Pansy will notice." He picked up his school bag and opened his door.

"Oh dear… **Pansy**?" She sniffed. "Don't be silly…I was talking about that absolutely lovely girl who works with you…you know…chocolate curls…mind like an encyclopedia…"

Draco, who was already pale enough as it was, turned a shade lighter. He gulped. "Granger? Why the HECK would I want to attract her attention?"

"Why dear…you so obviously like her…aren't you ALWAYS talking about her?"

He was. It was true. But they just didn't understand…this wasn't infatuation…it was **revenge**!

So, without waiting for his mirror's next comment, and without giving a reply, Draco Malfoy slipped out of his room and closed the door behind him, nervous beads of sweat hanging on his brow and his mind utterly and completely confused.

* * *

Hermione frowned, and tried to write down what Professor Binns had just said. This easy task for our Busy Queen Bee was harder than well…it wasn't ever hard… so let's just say that it was a hard task all of a sudden...as a somewhat dreamy looking Justin Finch-Fletchley was leaning close to her, chatting incessantly in her ear. 

"No, Justin, I don't care what shade of orange you use for the streamers…just let me finish…"

He nodded on, oblivious to anything else. He uncaringly waved a fly away. "No, no, I need an EXPERT opinion. The wrong orange just sets the tone **way** off. For instance, a light pink-orange would be **totally** wrong. You know that and I know that, but I'm not sure Susan does, and if she buys the wrong color the whole Halloween Ball will be—"

Hermione, totally exasperated, held up a hand and silenced him…with a kiss…

What?

Huh?

_Ahhh, sorry, **typo**…gosh, that embaressing...um, okay, here we go..._ She didn't really. Actually she hissed rather vehemently and with a touch of the ol' menace "I don't care, Justin. Just get a regular orange. Or if you **really** want to be specific, ask Malfoy…isn't he the resident metro?"

No offense to mets…I luv em! One of my good friends could be described as that…and I truly think more men should care about their appearance and color coordinate the way my stubborn buddy does…who should STOP shooting things with pellet guns, by the way!

Anyway…

"Ah yes, yes he is, I do believe. Ok, carry on; I'll just make a note to ask Carrot Face. I mean Ferret Cake. I mean Carrot Cake…uhh, **Malfoy**."

Sighing, Hermione nodded wearily and turned back to her notes.

* * *

The bell rang, and thankfully Draco could now escape from the confines of Charms Class. I mean, he likes Ravenclaws and all, and their girls are **hot**, but sharing a classroom with them…is, well, a lot like sharing a classroom with Granger. 

_But a whole lot hotter. _Whistling, Draco made his way to 4th Corridor, 2nd floor. The stairs at the end would lead to the Great Hall faster…and Draco was dying of hunger. (Not to mention Pansy would be waiting for him at 2nd Corridor, 3rd floor. For some reason, he didn't feel the need to make out with her that morning.)

_I mean sure, she's hot…though for some reason she reminds me an awful lot like a pug…but she's kinda smothering. Anyway, the whole relationship is just for show. I mean, what guy __**hasn't**__ gone out with her. I hear Weaselby even had a thing with—_

His current train of thought, however, stopped short when he rounded the corner, and his smile turned into a wider, happier grin.

Which in turn became his trademark smirk. He sauntered over to the stairs, where a frazzled looking Granger was being bombarded with questions by Finch-Fletchely. _Now there's an ugly kid…_

The stairs, which Draco had been hoping to go down, and now apparently, so had Granger, were blocked at the moment as a couple house elves cleaned up a mess evidently left behind by a first year who hadn't seen Mulch Horsums Earwax Trick yet. (The fourth year Hufflepuff was famed for it.)

Granger, who Draco expected to be going off about SPEW...or PEE-U...or STEW... was instead rolling her eyes and praying that the house elves could go faster.

"Oh, hello, Granger!" Draco cheerfully walked up to him. "Oh, and, uh…Flinch-Fleckly…or is it Justina Filching Feckless? I always get it wrong." He smirked.

(Gee, what a surprise**...that's** a new look for him...

Granger actually looked relieved. "Thank Merlin," she said, and taking hold of Finch-Fletchely's arm, pushed him over to Draco. "Justin, ask him about the orange streamers." Smiling rather peacefully, she closed her eyes as his continual babble landed on someone's else ears for a change.

_Mainly mine._

Draco rubbed his eyes. "Orange, Feckle?" he smiled menacingly, "How hopeless **are** you? Of course just get a basic Chinese Orange...or if you can't find that try Cadmium. It's stark color will contrast nicely with the black…now go."

Stuttering, he replied, "Well, uh…I'm kinda talking to Hermione…see, I was just asking her about—"

"About what?" he asked coolly. "Can't you see we need _alone time_?" he wiggled his eyebrows. Draco leaned closer to Justin's face and whispered, "We have some things to…catch up on."

Fuming and startled at the same time, Finch-Fletchley stumbled off down the hallway. Draco grinned. "Hah, you owe me—"

_**WHAP!**_

"Ow!" Draco looked at Granger, nursing his hurt shoulder. "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"_Alone time?_ Catch up on things? What the bloody hell was **that**?"

"Oh, that? Well, mah' _darling_ Mudblood, wouldn't you like to find out."

"Oh you're disgusting."

"Hah, you like it, muddy."

"No I don't!"

"Yes you do."

"NO!"

"Yes you—oh, look, the stairways open." Cheerfully unaware, he marched off down the stairs, hand oddly clasped in a vice-like grip on Granger's arm, dragging her behind him.

"I hate you."

"Why? Is the behind view not good enough for you?" he let out a fake weary sigh, "Fine. When we get downstairs I'll allow you ten seconds of a front shot."

"MALFOY!"

Ahh, and the two rivals headed off toward lunch, the song of hormonal tension ringing in their ears and the ever smirking face of Draco Malfoy leading the way.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well, how do you like it? It's longer than the last, that's for sure. Okay, so I don't know the exact places of the classrooms, as you read, so forgive me if I'm wrong. Hey, if you know the location, tell me, and I'll use it for future reference. 

Hah, I had so much fun writing Draco's Decision of the Tie. Seems even little gods like him have trouble deciding on ties Monday mornings. (BTW, it's now Monday, October 2nd, in the world of our dear protagonists.)

I love you all for reviewing. Really, you have made my life shine with your enthusiasm, and I'm always excited when I see new people have caught on to my story. (New readers are always welcome!)

Anyone who reviews gets fresh-off-the-rack chocolate chip cookies (Hot and squishy!) and a thank you card. (It's small and pink with a small duck who says in Yiddish "Thank you for reviewing!")

Hah! I don't even know Yiddish…

_**GOODIE BAG: **_Here is my virtual goodie bag for you my lovelies….open up YouTube, and type in the search "Harry Potter Puppet Pals"

Let me tell you, they are hilarious!

But one thing…There are a lot of fan versions of these videos, so only watch the ones by directors : _NeilCicierega _or _zachdevito. _The real ones are either actual puppets or animation. You can tell if they're authentic or not because they have the voices…the fan versions are either real people acting them out or animated _**with subtitles**_.

Okay, toodle-oo!


	24. Chapter TwentyFour

_**IMPORTANT: **_**Ahem…By The time you are reading this my pename will have changed, This doesn't mean I am trying to get away form you all—I just need a new name. I'm fastidious like that. **

* * *

Okay, compose your self.) I'm going to see it tomorrow—which will be Friday. 

Ahem, also, the biggest event the history of literature, basically, is coming up, because the SEVENTH and FINAL HP book is coming out, and Merlin knows what's going to happen. Will Harry die? Is Dumbledore really dead? Will Ron and Hermione stay together? How is Ginny holding up? Lupin and Tonks? Is Snape a traitor? Will dear Draco survive? Is Draco good or bad? Will he come over to the light side? What are the Dursleys doing? Is McGonagall the Headmistress now? Will Hogwarts be closed?

Oh Merlin's polka-dotted knickers, I can't take the pressure. Send me a private message or email me to tell me your personal thoughts about the seventh book. I'm **dying** to know. (Like Dumbledore ..sniff…waaaaaahhh!!!!!!)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter but it's a bloody fantastic series, and the writing is superb, and geez I wish I was a genius like Jo R.

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty-Four: **__In Which We Converse On The Delights of Chapter Beginnings; _

_Everyone's Getting Their Knickers In Knots; and We Come To Realize That __Hefty Books _

_Of Knowledge __**Are**__ In Fact Extremely Dangerous : Tuesday the Fourth In Which Doris Get's Her Oats._

_No, actually, that "Tuesday The Fourth In Which Draco Does Plan Two"_

_…but that lovely Beatles song "Two Of Us" was playing in my head, and I just had to put it._

* * *

Tuesday the Fourth dawned bleak and gray—because it was October, and because that's just how English weather can be. 

Any who, it's always nice to starts a chapter about the weather, or how the day began, because it's a wonderful conversation starter, I have no original plot ideas, and it gives you something to hang onto as you are hurtled through my story of love and hate and magic and cream colored poodles.

Hah! Wait, the latter has **nothing** to do with anything here. Ahem.

Draco Malfoy was getting dressed, picking out colors and clothes and hair gel, and while he did so he talked quietly to himself about his day. "Well, yesterday certainly was fun. Granger really got mad at me when I towed her to lunch—did you **see** her face when I made those suggestive comments? Priceless! I should have done this years ago."

He finished his hair, scrutinizing on the level of "Bounce" and the level of "Color Intensity" and "Brilliancy"

Oh bother, look at the time.

He picked up his schoolbag, opened his door, and stepped gamely out. "Today I will try 'Plan Number Two'…invite Pansy over for a snog. Well, I'll have fun with that!"

And then he went to breakfast.

* * *

Hermione was a having a bad start to her morning. First, she couldn't get her hair under control. Then she took forever trying to find her tie. Then she almost missed the door on the way out of her room. (Ahem, well, thankfully her cat-like reflexes saved her from veering herself into a very solid wall and a whopper of a bruise.) 

So when she finally got to walk to breakfast, trotting down the corridors with an air of confidence and maturity, she was not in the least surprised—but very annoyed—to see Justin ready to ambush her with more questions and goofy grins and sycophantic comments. Little bugger.

But she was mildly surprised to see Malfoy as well, just behind her, possibly walking to breakfast since he looked horrendously hungry, and she stopped walking to see if he would catch up to her, hoping his presence would somehow convince Justin this _wasn't _the morning to talk to her. She never thought having Malfoy around could be so…_useful_!

* * *

"Granger, Finchy," said Draco civilly as he walked past. He was hungry—he didn't feel like baiting Finch and provoking Granger this morning. He was saving himself for later on—he was hoping she would even shout at him when she walked in on what she liked to call UPDA…Unwanted Public Displays of Affection. Well, he hoped it would send her off her rocket, anyway. Ahh…he missed the good old days. 

But Granger looked at him despairingly (and murderously) as he walked past, and Justin smirked self-righteously, as if to say "That's right punk, walk on, Hermione's mine!!!!"

_Well, we can't have that, can we? I mean, the smirking is the "Draco Malfoy" thing, and since when does that little nose-picker called Finch think he could ever reach the standards no doubt Granger had set for her future boyfriend? One look at her face tells you she'd rather boil herself in hot water and be served with butter than be near Finch-Fleshy any longer—__**imagine**__ what going out with the stupid prick would __**do**__ to her? She'd probably commit suicide._

_And I can't redeem my reputation if she's not around._

_Of course, no one's saying she'd go out with him...but the less time she spends with Finch-Fleshy, the better!_

Draco made a u-turn, and walked back to Granger and Finch, his heart taking a leap as he noticed her expression of despair became hopeful. (Dear Draco, the silly git, hasn't yet noticed his behavior has taken a turn for the **weird**. Alas, some say it's infatuation—other's say it's revenge. Who's to say?)

"What are you doing, Malfoy? You're going to miss breakfast." Justin narrowed his eyes and wrapped an arm around Granger. She edged away. Draco smirked.

"Yes, well, so will my _dear_ friend Granger if you keep doing this most impolite thing of holding her up, so if you will just excuse us…" In one smooth motion he walked around them, removed Finch's deplorable limb of doom, and took her by the arm, dragging her away rapidly.

He slowed his pace down a smidge when they finally rounded the corner and were trotting down the stairs. He cleared his throat. Again. And again. "Uh, little miss Granger, isn't there something you should say….?"

"Well, I guess I **have** to thank you, Malfoy. That's the second time you saved me this week. And hauled me bodily to a meal…"

"We aren't there yet." He grinned to himself in happy sadism, content that she was beginning to squirm in his hold, and take on her look of slight offense and slight "err, ah, um…"

"Yes, well, ahhh… my arm needs to breathe and…um…hey, look at that!"

"I'm not falling for that." He still held her arm. She had given up trying to wriggle out of his hold.

"Humph."

* * *

_Later that Very Same Day..._

It was still gray outside, and bleak, and plus it had started to rain, turning the treetops the color of cold wet, heavily seasoned porridge. The reds and golds and yellows had faded to become dull foggy wet, limp, poor things. Hermione rather felt like a kindred spirit with them. In the class before lunch—during Charms, which is a horrible class because **something** always goes wrong—Neville (of all people…ppsshhh) blew the window open accidentally, right when a particularly nasty gust of wind was hammering against the side of the castle. It bought in torrents of that despicable wetness that some people call raindrops, and some dead leaves, plus many sore looks aimed at Neville.

So now—even though she wasn't wet because she's so brilliant and performed a Drying Charm—she still felt wet, and was developing a slight cold. And she was tired, because every other bloody person had asked for her to perform the bloody Drying Charm because they couldn't do it themselves—because, ironically enough, it was the charm the class had been working on when said Neville blew the window open and everyone got wet. We went over this already. See above paragraph if you forget…not that you would. I hope you wouldn't. Intense short term memory loss can make reading hell.

**Anyway**, back to Herm-eee-ninny.

She was in the Halloween Committee's meeting, joy upon joys, which Malfoy seemed to have skipped. The meeting had gone along rather swimmingly until Kaleb Hildred (That **daft**, **daft** little Gryffindor) decided intense fire-whiskey and butterbeer would be good on a cold rainy day.

_Oh yes, especially at a formal meeting of business and school propriety run by the Head Girl._

_Idiot._

Since the drink arrived, though, the meeting went...slowly…down…hill. It landed with an audible "CLUNK!" I might add, at the bottom of a steep ravine, where ravenous hyenas and prowling panthers came to sniff at it while elephants did their bathroom thing on it.

Oh, and some other git brought in chips and dip.

**Was she surrounded by IDIOTS?** Hermione, in her current state of emotional turmoil, thought heartily so.

Even worse, she didn't have the energy to reprimand them. God knows how she would have stopped it anyway. (What, stand on the table and yell in her loudest voice "Stop having fun you bunch of ninnies"? Really, have you **seen** how smashed her fellow classmates had become?) So, instead she planned to escape as quickly as possible before anymore Committee members lost more articles of clothing and began to extreme-salsa dance again, and head straight for the nearest "Pull In Case Of Emergency" handle.

But before she could get to the door, she would have to go around the first table. And Justin was just sitting at that very same bloody table, staring dreamily at her, letting love-filled sighs escape his lips every so often. And to top it all off, he was starting to drool.

"Hermione..." he said, simpering as she slowly rounded the table, intent on the door "Has anyone ever told you that you have the loveliest nose…and the most elegant legs…and the most wonderful butt…"

It took most of her strength of will to not strike him where he sat. Hermione hurried on, fuming. _I should have hit him_, she thought furiously, (a nice good kick in the nuts would have done the trick, or a perhaps thorough smashing of her knuckles against his face) because he was obviously out of line, but then she noticed the empty glass he nursed and realized he had gotten into the particularly strong batch of firewhiskey they had bought in. She lowered her hand. It was shameful to strike a drunk man—they don't know what their saying. No doubt he would be embarrassed tomorrow.

"Hermione, has anyone ever told you that you have the most beautiful—"

"Meeting adjourned!" Hermione hollered before he could continue, and with that she grabbed her bag and dashed out of the classroom. No need to hear more of **that** nonsense.

Indeed. Quite uncalled for.

Anyway…

Hermione hurried down the hallway, looking left and right, searching for that little red box situated conveniently on the castle walls. And—ah! There it is! And hurrying over, Hermione reached for the handle, muttering the password given to her at the beginning of the year "Vanilla Coco Skitter Bug Waffle Irons" and then pulled it down.

You might be asking why she pulled the handle of a red thing that gives the impression of an emergency box. Because, of course, there is no fire or flood and famine, no one is dying, and you would usually classify that as an emergency. **This** box, however, is not for fires of floods or famines…but for the Heads whenever a problem grows out of control. Such as the Meeting-turned-into-a-wild shenanigans type of thing. (Awful, awful business.) Whenever the handle was pulled, the nearest professors were notified, as well as Filch and the current Headmaster. Hermione smirked. Well, that would be the last time someone tried to pull a fast one on **her**!

And whistling for once, because she had put an end to a raucous, disrespectful, bad, **bad** thing, and that she had all the time in the world to study (which was in her opinion, complete and utter heaven) and that Malfoy was nowhere to be found, and neither was Justin, and because the silly, incredulous teenage girl inside of her was thrilled at the thought that a drunken guy had thought she had a lovely nose, and elegant legs, and a cute arse—a drunken boy, albeit, but a boy nonetheless.

**A member of the opposite sex.** Really, and even if her wonderfully sensible side called _"Hermione Granger: Ace Bookworm, Ace Head Girl, Ace Whatever the Hell Girls Do When They __**REFUSE**__ To Fantasize about Boys and Makeup or Quiditch or Draco Malfoy_" was revolted at the language she had heard and the chauvinistic, rude, "girls are only good for their looks and who cares whether she's smart or talented or funny or kind" attitude, her pride still swelled just a mite. Just a midge. A smidgling. Nothing to be concerned about, but nothing to disregard.

My, this had turned out to be a wonderful day.

And it would have stayed a wonderful day, and she would have gone back to her room, and gone to bed, and she would have dreamt of libraries and free elves and S.P.E.W. fan clubs, except for the fact that, well…

Actually, as far as she knew, she **was** going to do just that. She had no idea Malfoy had cooked up some ingenious plan (alright, more like a prat-faced mean-spirited plan) to antagonize her. She had no idea he had a hidden agenda, a vendetta against her and all that was good and Gryffindor-ish and that he was pulling his hair out because she no longer yelled at him and she now thought he was boring. Well!

She had no idea; if she did, she would be up in his face in a heartbeat, shouting things like "What is your problem?" and "Do you live to make people miserable?" and "Don't you have anything better to do?"

Stupid prick.

The point was, Hermione Granger was in complete naiveté about the fact that her day was not going to end well. Poor girl. And why should she? Draco Malfoy hadn't exactly been acting…harsh or…mean…these past few days. He's saved her from Justin, dragged her to meals, and insinuated sexual innuendo. Not exactly what you call a member of the Malfoy family, eh?

Really, when you think about it, if she was anybody else, and any other type of girl, she would have instantly picked up (or assumed…which is often **incorrect,** mind you) that Draco Malfoy, instead of hating her, fancied her something big.

And if she was the type of girl to do such things—if she was Ginny, perhaps; and if Hermione ever once thought she was good looking or had any confidence outside of books and knowledge and believed when Parvati told her that Seamus **had** been looking at her arse all through Herbology—she would have taken the first initiative and just _snogged_ the stupid yummy purebred bloke and got it over with. Hermione knew that most of the female population at Hogwarts (and some of the male) thought that Draco Malfoy was incredibly handsome. Gorgeous. To die for. "Lusted after" might have been a more appropriate choice of words, actually.

But seeing as she wasn't Ginny, and she wasn't confident in her femininity, and she was **not** going to strive to be silly and senseless and pointless like Lavender and Parvati and the rest of the idiotic female population, and the fact that Hermione did not know yet about Malfoys campaign against her "boredom, and coldness—not to mention lack of respect for the bully-victim relationship" …(a direct quote from the git himself)…she wasn't going to randomly snog the lad anytime soon.

Damn straight.

Hermione, don't give in, no matter how many death threats the lovely narrator receives. Because really, the dumb git needs to realize first that he's madly in love with you, and apologize at least ten times. And get through so and so many chapters.

Ahem…back to dear Draco, shall we?

* * *

Draco suppressed a giggle as he—wait! Did I just write that? 

Draco Malfoy suppresses a giggle? Bloody Hell! Even Granger doesn't giggle! Of course, Granger wasn't about to lead a very nice looking Pansy Parkinson into their Head Common Room to snog to death until the Mudblood Granger got back so he could get her mad at him. But wait—if Granger snogged Pansy to get…Granger mad…that would entail Hermione making herself mad, not to mention snogging Pansy. Which, for some reason, Draco found oddly attractive. But never mind that, Draco was just here on business. Strict business.

Anyway, so Draco Malfoy suppressed. a chuckle…a sexy manly chuckle, not a Santa Clause chuckle and certainly not a giggle! The reason he was suppressing a laugh was because Granger had no idea , and he felt so giddy over his plan; he felt it was solid foolproof…and you know, like even Dear Draco can be a bloody fool, so he can't mess it up, right?

Granger was bound to get mad. Hell, any girl walking in on him and Pansy would get mad.

And jealous.

Except Draco Malfoy didn't think Granger would get jealous. Blimey, he wasn't even sure if she was a girl. What kind of girl spends her free time and waking hours with two Quiditch blokes—even if they are Pottyhead and Weaselbutt—and doesn't make a move?

_Where have they been, anyway?_

_Wait, doesn't matter, I hear footsteps._

And grabbing Pansy's pug like, made-up face, he starting kissing her, hoping that the person outside was Granger.

* * *

Hermione sighed, shifting her bag to her other shoulder, and said the password. She really was tired—it had been a long day, she had gotten wet, Justin was obnoxious, she will have to file reports about the Meeting incident, Malfoy had skipped the Meeting, Ginny had been pestering her about the Halloween Ball, and she had just gotten a supremely saddening wave of person-sickness (like homesickness..) when she thought that Ron and Harry were off somewhere without her, and she hadn't been doing research like they'd asked, and she'd just fully come to realize that when the Headmaster and Filch and the few professors had been notified, it would be McGonagall, not Dumbledore, who would rain on the Committee's parade. 

She was at an all time low. Never mind she had just decided, minutes before, that this was a good day. She had just changed her mind; I think she was on her monthly or some emotional shit that terrorizes us girls, and was now sulking, sullen, and sad.

She hoped that when she opened the portrait door, that Malfoy would be in bed or something, and she could just sail away to her lovely warm room, and lock the door until morning.

Hermione stepped, while pushing her hair out of her eyes, and closed the door behind her. She still hadn't seen the Common Room—good, she thought, it's silent and obviously—wait, what was that?

She didn't turn around yet; she just clutched her wand tightly, and listened. It was a slightly wet, sticky sound, like faces being smashed passionately into each other, and she could swear she'd heard it somewhere before…oh yes, she'd heard it ten minutes ago in that disaster of a meeting…lets see…it couldn't be the music, and most everyone was eating and drinking and dancing and shouting at the top of their lungs...but wait, hadn't Harvey and Pricilla, those dunderheads from Hufflepuff, been locked passionately in an embrace in the back of the classroom?

What were they doing again?

Oh, yeah.

And then Hermione knew where she had also heard it before; in empty broom closets, in deserted library aisles, in corridors after classes, during study time, in the Gryffindor Common Room…it was the sound of **snogging.**

Hermione reddened. **Who** would be snogging in the Head Common room?

Like she had to ask.

Hermione, now furious, turned around and caught sight of a head of platinum blonde and a black bob. She would have rolled her eyes, but she was too furious to do anything but scowl and shout and reprimand the prick.

"Malfoy!" she shouted "What is with this UPDA?"

Pansy's head shot up, her eyes wide, smirking as she caught sight of Hermione, before asking to Malfoy, "Upda? What's upda?"

He shushed her, and turned to face Hermione, smirking. "Oh, but it's not public, Granger. It's in our own Common Room, you aren't on patrol, and I'm Head Boy—I can do what I want.

_Stupid pureblooded antsy bigot,_ Hermione thought.

She narrowed her eyes, noticing the way Pansy's disgusting pink, fleshy lips darted around his face. Her lips touching his! It was disgusting to think about it—she was so…so…so repulsive, really. Her sickening simper, her glossy lips, her ugly little hairdo, her pug face, her revealing clothes, that way she snorted when she laughed and how her voice was always whiny and high-pitched.

"_Upda? What's upda?"_ Hermione murderously mocked Pansy's voice in her head. What's UPDA? What you're doing, you stupid ugly bint.

Malfoy smirked, and Hermione, realizing he'd won…for the time being—or at least for another twenty minutes until she thought of something really good to shout at him—crossed the floor and entered her room, slamming the door behind her.

A nice big _**SLAM**_, it was, too.

* * *

Draco grinned to himself. Here he was, thinking he was losing his touch, when the truth was he just needed fresh material. Granger had been **furious**. He wouldn't have been surprised if she'd spit fire and set alight the Common Room. 

He knew he had won, at least for another half hour or so. He knew she'd have to come out of her room sometime to brush her teeth—the bloody beaver was absolutely barmy about doing it the Muggle way, the chit—and when she catches sight of him snogging Pansy again, he knew it would set her off. For sure.

* * *

Hermione angrily slammed down her bag, scowling wrathfully. Who knew seeing some little wench smashing her face against the biggest muggle-hating prick-headed bigot of their school would make her so…_angry_? 

She never got this way before. Seeing couples snogging merely caused her…annoyance. Disgust. A little bit of resentment because she was alone and they weren't. She'd never really **shouted** at them, or gotten so upset., so **livid.**

Was it because he knew better? That he blatantly did it where she would see, and because he knew she disliked public displays of affection, and he had planned the whole thing?

_Probably not. That's too complicated... clever...for the dogmatic hidebound oaf. He was probably feeling lonely, invited Pansy over and "ding!" a light went off in his oversized head that __**maybe**__ if he snogged in the room they shared, I would be bound to see him, and he knew I disliked PDA's._

_That's it, right? It's silly of me, to think Malfoy planned out his day just to get me mad. Sure, he never misses a chance to provoke me, but it wasn't like he cooked these things up weeks ahead of time, and scheduled them just so he could get a reaction. What, next you're telling me he has some sort of…of… __**list**__ of what he's going to do to anger me!_

_Hah!_

_What a silly idea. What could I be thinking? _

Hermione, though content in the fact that he wasn't concocting a vendetta against her, was still unsure about why she had gotten so angry.

_It's cos' you fancy him, deary._

Hermione had not heard from the Voice in Her Head for a while, and she firmly believed, even if absence makes the heart grow fonder, that she needed to put it in its place.

_My dear, dear, Voice In My Head, I'm sure you know, because you know my thoughts, presumably, that I do not, one bit, fancy Draco Malfoy. The idea is absurd, really, ask anyone. I've hated that disgraceful, intolerant git since the day we met. _

_Oh but dear, he's so handsome! Look at him! He's got those bloody gorgeous eyes, and that __**toned, tanned, muscular**__ body of his. What a treat!_

_Oh, don't be so shallow!_

_And yet you aren't __**denying**__ the fact that he's luscious, now are you?_

_Ahh, well I…see here, as my Voice, shouldn't you be on my side? I mean, do you really want to fight with me too? That'll only result in me shouting out loud things that are meant for our conversations only, possibly in public, and then they might get me a psychologist, and "Poof!" the voice in my head is gone. They can do that, you know. Even with Muggle methods._

_Ah, you wound me so. But I'm not going to stop. It's good for you to have a difference of opinion about somebody once in a while. Besides, I'm not arguing, I'm __**persuading**_

_This conversation is over._

_Oh, alright. Geez Louise. _

And then she was gone.

Hermione, now perfectly alone, decided to pull on her pajamas. The day was gone—it was dark and cold, and all she wanted to do was get to bed.

Now Hermione is a perfectly sensible girl—long flannel pants and a long sleeved shirt, patterned with lion heads and sparking wands were her choices for sleepwear. The girls in Gryffindor tower were, no doubt, pulling on tight-knit tank tops and "booty shorts". Hermione sniffed. Well, this was **one girl** who won't be dressing like that anytime soon. And pulling her hair high up into a pitifully messy sort of pony-tail, she headed off for the bathroom.

* * *

Pansy, by this time, had just remembered that Courtney Gorgon had wanted to share a juicy tid-bit of gossip with her, and so before Draco could protest, she had shouted "Bye, Draco!" and ran off, no doubt fantasying about who the gossip was about. 

That left him alone in the common room, staring at his broken plan. Dammit.

He heard Granger's door open, a she came walking out, mouth set mulishly, eyes glaring daggers at him.

For some reason, he smiled weakly---_smiled _weakly? He should of...of...of made a rude comment! He would have mentally cursed himself, but instead he decided to go with the flow, and be out of character. Merlin knows why. Blimey, the bloody chap must be out of his mind!

She was still glaring at him, and had stopped at the bottom of the stairs. She crossed her arms.

"What'd I do?" he asked unconvincingly, trying to look innocent. Merlin sakes, he even threw in a shoulder-shrug.

"You know what you did," said Granger, tapping her foot, "You parade that…that…that charlatan, that tart around the school, ruining the respect for the Head Boy and Girl I have built up. And you do it…you do it unashamedly, deliberately in front of me, where I can see."

"Geez, Granger. Don't get your knickers in a twist." Draco, of course, was having the most fun he'd had all evening. Well, I mean, it would have been better, but for some reason he couldn't enjoy himself all the way. Something was nagging at him, a prickling sensation in his chest that was saying stupid, pansy things like "Say sorry!" and "Don't do it!" and "Look how mad she is! You buffoon, fix this!"

"My knickers are **not** _twisted_, Draco Malfoy!" she walked closer, "It's disgusting, sometimes, your behavior. Toward women. And the younger Years. And rules. And the teachers. And civil behavior. But most of all **me**. I demand respect, Draco."

Draco, the absolute git, really didn't get the whole idea. "Did you call me Draco?"

'That's your name, isn't it?" she said huffily, obviously exasperated that the only thing he could think of to say was _"Did you call me Draco?"_

"Well, yes, but you call me Malfoy."

"Oh, does it annoy you?"

"Actually, yes."

"Good. Then I'll keep doing it, _Draco_,"

It was Draco's turn to be huffy. "Stop saying that, _Hermione._"

"_You're_ not allowed to call me Hermione!"

"Well, who is? _Justin_? Maybe I had it wrong. Maybe you **do** like the attention he gives you."

"What?" she tossed her head, "That's ridiculous, and you know it, you idiot."

"Uh, uh. I bet you love it when he follows you around like a lost puppy. The bloody pansy probably thinks you're a goddess, or something!"

"Shut your trap, Malfoy, and don't insult him."

Draco was pleased that she had returned to using his last name—because when she spoke his first name, strangely enough, it gave him goose-bumps—but he was also _not-so-pleased_, because Granger had returned to acting all high and mighty, (the chit), and now she was even **defending** that useless lump called Finch, when Draco bloody well knew she couldn't stand the dolt; it made his head cold, and his body hot, and his temper oddly angry. Miffed. Dare we say, Jealous?

Now, the Malfoy family is known for a wide range of unpleasant emotions. A mean Malfoy is a given—their relatively easy to cope with: shoot back a few insults, give them a good whollop every now and again, and make sure they don't have a reason to blackmail you. Angry Malfoys can be unpleasant because they take the fun out of life. They go stomping around, throwing everyone dark, glowering looks. Bored Malfoys are dangerous—they always go looking for trouble. Embarrassed Malfoys are rare. Confused Malfoys depend on if your specimen is rather...well…dim-witted. Sad Malfoys are rarely genuine—they'll usually use their tears for their own gain—the pity-mongering, you know. The pricks. Aggressive Malfoys are fun, because it gives you an excuse to whack one of 'em.

Yet one of the most dangerous, troubling, and sinister emotions that come in the package labeled "Malfoy Emotions: Caution: Dangerous Substances: Keep Refrigerated at 25 Degrees and Below: See Due Date on Back" is the one marked "Jealousy."

Yes, jealousy; it can eat away at ones heart until there is nothing left but a shell; it's dangerous in it's power to change ones mind, to compel one to be as far from their character as could possibly be; a terrible thing, is jealousy, and unfortunately the Malfoy family has been known –that whenever a member of their family experiences jealousy, it is not in little lousy doses. See, when they **happen** to carry it, they carry _quite a lot_.

Draco, of course is such a troll he wouldn't know he was jealous even if it danced up and whacked him on a head.

Because, see, the thing is…Draco doesn't think he **gets** jealous. Why should he? People get jealous because of looks, money, power, and talent.

Well, as everyone knows, Draco is Adonis in human form.

He's got loads of money, the blighter.

Daddy's got connections in high places; Mummy's got her aristocratic friends.

And Draco's a fairly good Quiditch player. He's in top shape, fast and agile. He's not dumb, either. He made Head Boy, didn't he?

What's there to be jealous of?

This is the reasoning that usually goes on in the big pricks head. Mighty conceited, eh?

Ahem.

Granger was still fuming at him, mouthing off a long spiel about equal rights, and respect, and manners.

Meanwhile, Draco was free to…umm…notice that Granger's shirt hugged her, well, rather nicely, and umm…the flannels pants didn't not maker her attractive. And when she as mad, he noticed her eyes sparkled. Okay, not sparkling. They sparked. Like they were on fire. On fire and veeeeerrrrryy mad.

And her hair, he noticed, wasn't that frizzy anymore. Well, sure, she'd got long, messy curls, and she's rather petite, too, but wiry; you don't lug around books all day without any payback.

She was pretty, in a wild, Grecian, classical kind of way. He supposed she'd look all right dolled up—if she ever took the leap actually applied stuff like mascara and blush and foundation and waxed her eyebrows—but for some reason the thought of Granger becoming another Pansy or Brown or Patil or Greengrass made his stomach turn, and he felt uneasy thinking about it, and he hoped, wildly, that she wouldn't ever change her appearance.

Which was a strange thing for him to think, but he thought it anyway, and secretly felt proud because he'd thought something that would have made his parents cringe and his Slytherin mates look on in horror.

He brought back to earth by Granger poking him in the chest. "—and if you think that I'm going to stand for that little tarts rude behavior, you've got another thing coming." She was still seething, her finger digging uncomfortably into his chest. He hadn't a clue what she was talking about, but he supposed it had something to do with Pansy. He laughed, because "little tart" was just what he would describe her himself.

Granger looked at him incredulously. "What are you laughing about?" she asked uncertainly. She glowered at him, and removed her finger. His chest convulsed, for an odd reason, and he hoped she hadn't noticed anything. Thankfully she was too mad to.

"I was thinking that Pansy is exactly that—a little tart."

He saw her eyes widen in fear. Obviously, him agreeing with her was the most off putting thing in her world. "What was that for?"

"What?"

"Agreeing with _me_."

He laughed. "What, I can't do that to the ickle Gryffy? Why, I'm sure you'd love to have **Finch-Fleshy** agree with you. you'd love it, wouldn't you?"

She looked ready to murder him. "No, I wouldn't. And stop talking about him." She had backed away, unconsciously rolling up her sleeves and clenching her first. They were screaming at her "Use us! Use us! Smash your knuckles right in his pale, freaky face!"

"Why? Makes you hot, huh?" he smirked, knowing he was coming dangerously close to getting his head torn off, "I bet you wish he was kissing you instead of that ugly Celestina Warbeck poster he'd got. I bet you fantasize about his slimy, fat lips, don't you?"

* * *

Hermione's eyes widened. How **dare** he? She wasn't some...some…some **tramp** he could push round! 

There was blood pounding in her ears, and acting on her temper, for once, she furiously picked up the nearest thing—a large weighty tome of "Hogwarts, a History" and chucked it at him. "You bloody half-cocked prick," she fumed, "I'm going to kill you."

And then she stormed into the bathroom, wrenching the door closed behind her.

* * *

Draco, smug and content as a cat, picked the book of the floor—the one Granger had just impressively hurled at him—the one he had to duck quickly before it took his head off—and went to his bedroom. 

He felt wonderfully tired and accomplished.

Before he turned off his lights, he told himself to write down "Bloody half-cocked prick" for future reference.

If he did say so himself, it was a deliciously crude, biting thing to say. And Draco, the git that he was, loved to say deliciously crude, biting things.

Besides, stealing it from Granger was just another added bonus.

As he drifted off to sleep, the last thought going through his head was "Hermione Granger's most **defiantly** female."

* * *

**Author's Note: **How was it? I feel so-so about this one, to be honest. I think I propelled things to fast. 

Well, far be it for me to dwell in self doubt and pity. Review, and life my spirits! Or sink them lower than the Titanic.

Either one.

Review, and you get fresh out of the oven Portuguese sweetbread ! **(Also, I'm horribly afraid that there are spelling errors and the like in this chapter--if you find any please tell me and I'll fix them.)**

Toodles!

-G&B


End file.
